


Hell's Smitten

by WhatItShouldveBeen



Category: British TV Celebrities RPF, Chef Gordon Ramsay, Chef RPF, Hell's Kitchen (US TV) RPF, Hell's Kitchen - Fandom, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Age Difference, BDSM, Bonding, British, Character Development, Competition, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Cooking, Developing Relationship, Dominance, Eventual Smut, Exhibitionism, F/M, Falling In Love, Fingering, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Food, Fucking, Funny, Insults, Lemon, Long, Love, Mentor/Protégé, Multiple Orgasms, NSFW, Oral Sex, POV Female Character, POV First Person, POV Multiple, Plot, Polyamory, Pregnancy Risk, Public Masturbation, Reader-Insert, Reality TV, Romance, Secret Crush, Secret Relationship, Self-Insert, Sex, Show Business, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Submission, Tags Contain Spoilers, Teacher-Student Relationship, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Sex, age gap, blowjob, celebrity, chef, kitchen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2020-04-12 09:25:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 125
Words: 225,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19129207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatItShouldveBeen/pseuds/WhatItShouldveBeen
Summary: You've been training to be a part of Hell's Kitchen for almost eight years, and now your time has finally come. Will you impress your idol, Chef Gordon Ramsay, or will you be sent home in tears?ON HOLD until 2021!





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> **Any chapter title with a (*) contains smut. Ye have been warned!**
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> Those of you that are early readers, feel free to chime in with what you'd like to see. This story will be frequently updated until I reach an ending I'm satisfied with. I'm happy to take suggestions. 
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> || This is my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoy it, please leave comments on what I can improve.  
> I'm hoping to make this very similar to the show, meaning there will be an emphasis on actual cooking and relationships building from the ground up. If you're interested in a story that truly develops rather than just slaps you into the action, this is where you'll want to be. Now, onto the show! ||

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Hell's Smitten, ladies and gentlemen! ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I marked this mature but if you are under 16 PLEASE just add this to your reading list and wait to read it until you are older!

Friday, June 21st, 2013

"It's **RAW**! Do it over you fucking **donkey**!"

The blaring, commanding voice of Gordon Ramsay pummels a hapless chef from the blue team into teary-eyed submission.

Thankfully I'm safe from his wrath on the other side of my television screen and can enjoy the suffering of the unfortunate chef who'd forgotten to check his meat before bringing it up. A rookie mistake– something that I'd make sure never to do. 

Ever since I started watching Hell's Kitchen at sixteen years old, I've been studying tirelessly to become a chef that Gordon Ramsay would be proud of. I have all of his books and I have studied his cooking techniques with fervor for years.

Four months ago, I'd submitted my request to join Hell's Kitchen as a contestant. I've still not heard back from them, but that doesn't stop me from studying past seasons to try and better understand the ins and outs of the show. It's not like it's grueling work, anyway. Watching Chef Ramsay mercilessly tear into wannabe head chefs has always been a favorite past time of mine.

In preparation for the competition, I've been practicing some of the more difficult cooking techniques. Today I'm making a very difficult dish– a cheese soufflé. Baking a perfect soufflé is a rite of passage for chefs. If I can do this, I'll be ready for the big leagues. Unfortunately, my stove has been in a haggard state of disrepair for almost a year now; only two burners work and the oven door handle is hanging down limply from where it had detached from the right side. But so long as it still heats up, I can still work my magic.

Using a saucepan, I melt three and a half tablespoons of butter, mix it with six tablespoons of flour, then whisk it over the stove until it is lightly toasted. After that, I whisk in a cup and a half of milk, waiting for that perfect point where it thickens just enough to remove it from the heat. I scrape the sauce into a large bowl to let it cool. 

Once the sauce cools down to a pleasantly warm temperature I stir in three egg yolks, a half cup of grated cheese, salt, pepper, and nutmeg.

The bowl of egg whites I'd hand-stirred earlier awaits my gentle touch. Gordon's words echo in my ears; folding egg whites into the batter is the most important part of a soufflé. The whipped egg whites have to hold the air inside them even while mixing, so folding carefully and meticulously is the only way to ensure a fluffy-topped result.

Now, my batter is ready to be poured into the pan. Since I can't yet afford frivolous things like a pan solely for soufflé, I use a deep, oven-safe saucepan to hold my masterpiece instead. The oven door wobbles as I open it using the handle that precariously dangles off the front. 

I'd been meaning to buy the parts to repair my stove, but living alone and affording to keep my apartment on a shitty line cook salary was a feat in itself. Besides, as my father always said, don't fix what ain't completely broken.

The soufflé broils on the bottom rack for three minutes before I turn the heat down to 400 degrees. Now I have to wait twenty minutes to see if I've mastered the art of soufflé baking. While I wait, I plop down on my couch to continue watching Chef Ramsay do what he does best.

_Ding dong_

The doorbell rings, startling me off the couch at the same moment that Gordon kicks out the blue team chef he'd torn into earlier. I half expect it to be a package delivery, but then the doorbell rings again. Someone is here? But no one ever comes to visit me... 

Wait, could it be...?

I scramble to the door of my apartment and unlock the deadbolt with shaky fingers.

"(Y/N)?" asks the portly man at the door, holding a red card in both of his hands. Behind him, a camera crew films my reaction.

"Yes, that's me!" I exclaim excitedly, nervous energy coursing through me. 

"Congratulations, you've been chosen as a contestant on season eleven of Hell's Kitchen!" he holds out his hand to shake mine. However, I am too busy bouncing around the room to reciprocate. 

He seems nonplussed and smiles at me.

"That son of a bitch is going to destroy your enthusiasm, just wait."

I feel my face flush with nervous heat. Holy shit, this is for real. This isn't just a sixteen-year-old's dream anymore. At the prime age of twenty-three, I'm going to be whisked away to Los Angeles to compete against fellow chefs for the chance to be an executive chef, hand-picked by Gordon himself. Tears begin to well in my eyes. I turn to the man at the door and thank him, accepting my invitation graciously and ignoring his scathing words. No one– not even Chef Ramsay himself– can destroy my enthusiasm.

The camera crew thank me and start to leave, many of them congratulating me as they exit my small apartment. One younger woman stops and tells me she is rooting for me, which makes me grin even wider.

Once the camera crew leaves, I happy dance around my living room and kitchen, unable to stop myself. Once I calm down slightly, I tear into the envelope.

Inside are a congratulatory note and a list of things I should pack along with a ticket for a first-class flight to Los Angeles, dated for next week.

This is it, I am going to see the man I've been idolizing since I was a teenager in just one week. I handle the plane ticket like it's made of gold and place it delicately on the kitchen counter. The smell of something burning makes its way to my nose.

Oh no, my poor soufflé! I rush to the oven and peer in to see a charred heap of charcoal in the saucepan.

I shrug to myself, too elated to be upset. Oh well. There's nowhere to go from here but up!


	2. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You arrive off the plane, eagerly anticipating the journey to Hell's Kitchen. You meet a few of your fellow chefs as you all wait for your ride.

Monday, June 24th, 2013

The other contestants and I gather at the entrance to the airport, waiting inside for further instructions– Monday airport traffic is no joke. Cars line up outside and throngs of people weave their way through each other, toting suitcases. That's not to say the airport lobby of Los Angeles is not stunning, the tall glass windows allow for the beautiful day's sunlight to shine through.

I take this time to examine my competition. There are fifteen other chefs aside from myself that are going to be competing against each other this season– eight men and eight women. Most of them are sitting in the airport lobby chairs, idly chatting to one another. I stand to the side of the chairs, leaning on the handle of my rolling suitcase. Thinking back to past seasons, I wonder which chefs were put here just to stir up drama. My wondering is cut short with an uncanny interruption.

A woman with bleached blonde hair, dressed in a low-cut floral top and a short white skirt decides to gather everyone's attention. Or at least, the attention of the people who weren't already staring at her near exposed breasts.

"Oh my GOD can you guys believe it!!" She bounces in place, her boobs jiggling, "I'm like, actually here. Of all the applicants I got picked! I can't wait to see which of you makes it to the final five with me." 

She pauses, then grins wickedly like the Cheshire cat.

"Should be real easy, my competition doesn't look very... fierce." Her eyes quickly flit about the contestants, stopping on me for what seems to be just a second longer than the others.

One of the few to not be at a loss for words is a middle-aged, stout, and bald man who scoffs at her.

"This is Hell's Kitchen, not Keeping Up with the Kardashians. Unless you keep your cooking skill in those tits then I doubt you'll make it to the final five with that self-absorbed attitude. This is a team game."

Though he is stocky, his voice is commanding, and surprisingly the blonde looks sheepish at being talked down to. By the time that a tall man in a suit approaches us, she hasn't managed to come up with a snarky retort.

"Hell's Kitchen contestants?" He questions the group. After seeing our collective nods he continues, "please follow me." He turns and walks towards the sliding glass doors, exiting the airport.

Our bustling group of contestants all happily follow him to a sleek black limousine with the initials "HK" branded on the side parked just outside the loading gate. All of us look giddily at each other. Excitement buzzes through my body as I lock eyes with the girl next to me, her brown curls bouncing in place as she jitters. We both give a shy grin, recognizing the other's excitement. As we approach the limo, the driver opens the door and lets us all inside.

The limo is plush and cozy and there is an icebox with a bottle of champagne situated in the middle. The driver introduces himself as Paul and passes out champagne glasses to all of us before he takes his seat at the front and begins the drive to Hell's Kitchen.

The girl who had stood next to me earlier slides in next to me with a breathless "Hey!"

"Hi," I grin. "I'm (Y/N), and you?"

"Taylor," she returns the smile. I notice she has a string of piercings up her ears, some hoops and some studs. Her hazel eyes shine with joy, the browns nearly matching her light tan skin tone.

Our attention is drawn to one of the younger men– green-eyed, thin, with messy ruffled brown hair– as he takes hold of the champagne bottle, opening it swiftly and pouring glasses for everyone with finesse. His winning smile is contagious as he confidently leads us all in a discussion of where we'd come from to get here, and cracks a few jokes. Soon enough all of us are smiling and laughing together.

After about thirty minutes of driving and laughing, the lights of the tinted window limo go out, leaving us in partial darkness. The chatter dies down and everyone starts looking around somewhat confused. Shortly, a small TV flips open right by the window between the driver and us contestants. On that TV is none other than Chef Ramsay, wearing his striking white head chef jacket with his arms crossed across his chest in what one may consider his signature pose.

"Good afternoon, Hell's Kitchen contestants! I hope you all are enjoying yourselves on your trip to Hell because things are about to get a lot less luxurious. As soon as you arrive, I expect you to hop in the kitchen and begin work on THE signature dish of yours that you are," he adamantly shakes his fist, "MOST proud of." The passion in his eyes burns in a way that can be felt through the screen. All of us are silent, at rapt attention. I feel my heart flutter at how fervently he encourages us. If he's anything like this in person, it'll be easy to be motivated by his words alone.

"You have forty-five minutes from the moment you arrive to complete your signature dish. The red and blue team will be competing, so be sure your dish impresses if you want your team to win. I will meet you all as soon as you've finished. Good luck, contestants." He turns his back to us as the screen folds up and the lights turn back on.

We are all silent for a few seconds, until one of the women sitting closest to the screen weakly mutters, "Gee, he sure is intimidating."

She is small even while sitting down, her curly red hair frames her pale white face. She has freckles across her nose that stand out when her skin drains of color, as it is now. 

One of the men sitting next to her– somewhat built, brown-eyed and black-haired with a buzz cut– wraps his muscled arm around her shoulder, rapidly bringing color back to her cheeks.

"Chin up Red!" he exclaims. "Ya wanna be brave when you talk to Ramsay. Even if you're scared, don't show 'em that ya are."

She nods delicately, curling her shoulders in to avoid touching his arm as much as possible. He doesn't seem to notice and leaves it around her for the rest of the duration of the ride.


	3. Signature Dishes Part 1/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's no rest in Hell's Kitchen! As soon as you arrive, you must begin work on your signature dish. You get a better look at who you're competing against.

Monday, June 24th, 2013

When the limo finally comes to a stop, we all get out quickly. Excitement tinges the air as we gaze up at the big trident spelling out "HK" in front of the sound stage-turned-restaurant. 

Seeing the building I'd only ever visited in my dreams before me is an adrenaline shot to the heart. My fingertips tingle and my heart pounds like I'd sprinted the whole way here.

Some of us, including myself, take the stairs two at a time in eagerness to make it to the kitchen and begin our dishes. The LCD TVs that line the red hallways of Hell's Kitchen's entrance display time clocks, counting down from 45:00.

I am among the first to make it to the red kitchen. I head to the cold storage room in the back and begin gathering ingredients for my signature dish. I recall the things that Ramsay enjoyed eating from previous contestants of earlier seasons and think about my strengths and weaknesses. I'd considered my signature dish a thousand times over, but one particular dish stands out in my mind– pan-seared scallops with a white wine tarragon sauce topped with finely chopped bits of bacon.

An older black gentleman meets me at the back of the fridge and gives a small smile as we both take enough scallops for our dishes. I fervently wish that he isn't able to make a better dish that I can... and hope that I don't over or under-cook the scallops, as I know that will make or break a first impression with Chef Ramsay's high standards.

Forty-five minutes flies by quicker than the blink of an eye. My scallops look perfectly cooked as I meticulously babysit them on the pan. Carefully, I lay them out in a pleasing pattern on the plate, drop the perfect amount of white wine tarragon sauce on and then sprinkle the bright red bacon pieces over the top. I garnish the plate with a small curl of lemon peel and set it up under its silver domed serving platter right as the buzzer sounds to announce the end of our time.

My heart beats against my rib cage like a hummingbird's wings– frantic and quick. This isn't a dream anymore. In a few seconds, Gordon Ramsay will be walking out of his office to greet us. Soon enough, he will be tasting the food I'd prepared for him. It feels surreal. The other contestants and I line up, women at the front of the left red kitchen and men at the front of the right blue kitchen.

The doors to his office open and a spotlight follows as Chef Ramsay steps down the stairs agilely. Gordon looks more intimidating in person than he ever looked on TV. His sharp blue eyes show intense intelligence as he surveys his new chefs, standing tall and proud at the front of our lineup.

He opens his arms in greeting to us.

"Welcome! Good to see all your bright, shining smiles this afternoon. I hope your flights were lovely. Now, let's get to it, shall we?" he rubs his hands together eagerly.

"The winner of this competition will become the new executive chef at a restaurant I am opening up right next to my home in London, aptly named 'Gordon Ramsay's London Cuisine'. Keep in mind, the red team is versus the blue team on this signature dish challenge. Starting from the outside, the red team presents first." He points to the first woman on the red team side and the first man on the blue team side and motions them forward.

Our red team contestant has brown hair in a bun, a sharp nose, and serious eyes. She walks as if she had a string pulling her up from the top of her head, and sets down her platter carefully, adjusting it so it is sat just so, before flourishing the lid open. At the same time, the blue team's contestant walks gaily to the front, carefree as anything, and places his platter down. I recognize him as the same young man who'd poured out the champagne for all of us earlier.

"Right, your name and where you are from, please? And what is your dish?" Chef asks, addressing the red team contestant and waving his hand towards her dish.

She stands with her arms behind her back, her hands tightly locked together. "Gail. I was born and raised in Dodge City, Kansas. I have a freshly baked halibut with tomato, onion, olives, and capers with a bit of cayenne for a kick of spice."

Ramsay nods before pulling her plate towards him. "Well, first off, the presentation is an absolute mess. You have onions sticking out like loose hairs. Really unappetizing. Let's see how it tastes."

To her credit, Gail takes his criticism in stride and watches intently as he takes a bite.

"Though it looks like absolute shite, it tastes rather good. If you were to spend more time making it presentable you might have a decent dish. Thank you, Gail," he says, then dismisses her. She nods and takes her plate and tray back to the lineup.

"Alright, you– name, where you're from, and your dish?" he addresses the blue team contestant now, who lifts his platter's lid.

"Hey I'm Dave from Poplar Bluff, Missouri, and this is a, uh, stuffed cabbage roll with beef, rice, and tomatoes topped with queso cheese." He pushes the plate towards Ramsay.

Chef takes the plate and examines it. "Your cabbage rolls look slimy on the parts that aren't absolutely oozing with cheese. You went a bit overboard with the queso, I think," he says as he takes his fork and knife and cuts into the cabbage roll.

"Overall, too cheesy. If you had merely topped it with something else or perhaps prepared the cabbage in a way that didn't make it shine like plastic it might look and taste better. I'm disappointed, Dave." He motions for Dave to step back in line and clasps his hands together.

"I don't think either of you is quite up to my standards, so neither team gets a point. Next two, please."

Up next are two people I hadn't taken note of yet. Blue team's contestant is a man with short brown hair, buggy eyes, and no chin. He walks with confidence to Chef Ramsay, however, and places his tray down. Red team's contestant is a short, lumpy 30-something woman with a haircut that screams: "Take me to your manager!" She walks to Chef and takes her lid off sideways, knocking off some garnish from the top of her plate. She quickly tries to grab it, but Ramsay pushes her hand away. 

"You have to be more careful, you can't just fling lids willy nilly! Get a grip! What is your name, where are you from, and what is it," he quickly gestures at the dish, "and don't mention the garnish, I'm not eating that off the table like a starving dog."

She looks embarrassed before straightening up and clearing her throat.

"Uh, I'm Cindy from Alabama. This is my signature dish, baked lemon chicken with a creamy mushroom sauce." Her Southern accent is slight but still noticeable. She eyes the garnish that had been knocked off, and Ramsay responds by swiping the garnish into the trash can.

"Alright Cindy, well, it looks decent, would surely have looked better had you not trashed your garnish. Let's give it a taste." He cuts into the chicken and immediately draws back with a disgusted face.

"Cindy," he pauses, "are you trying to poison me before we even begin the fucking show??" He looks enraged as he turns the chicken towards her and the camera.

Cindy's face goes pale as she stammers, trying to apologize.

"Fucking RAW Cindy! You would think forty-five minutes would be enough time to cook a fucking chicken breast, but you evidently can't handle even the most basic of tasks. I'm not eating this." He quickly swipes the dish up and dumps the whole thing over into the trash.

"And considering you attempted to apologize before I even told you what was wrong, I'm guessing you WERE trying to poison me because you KNEW it was raw and still decided to serve it! You think that's acceptable behavior for an executive chef at 'Gordon Ramsay's London Cuisine'? If I had you as the head chef, it'd be called 'Gordon Ramsay's Biological Hazard'. Get the fuck back in line." He dismisses her with a furious wave of his hand, not bothering to look at her. She drops her head and takes back her empty tray.

"Alright," he turns to the blue team's contestant, "I certainly hope you haven't come to poison me as well. What's your name, where are you from, and what is the dish?"

"Hey, I'm Alex, I've been a line chef for eight years in Lansing, Michigan and this is my signature dish– lentils, and wild rice with fried onions." He lifts the lid and pushes the plate towards Chef.

"Hmm, looks decent, the onions look crisp. Let's taste it." He spoons a bite of rice and onion together and brings it to his mouth.

"The aroma is lovely, and it tastes lovely too. The onions are cooked to perfection. Well done, Alex, back in line." Alex nods and turns to leave, when Ramsay adds, "Oh, and thanks for not trying to poison me." Cindy looks down quickly, her cheeks going red in embarrassment.

"Poison and excellence, let's hope that we can stick to the latter, shall we? I think it's obvious that the blue team has earned the point this time." Ramsay motions for the next two contestants to come forward.

Our contestant this time is the bleached blonde with her tits falling out from her shirt. She walks with an exaggerated sway to her hips to place her tray down. The boy's team member is the buzz cut black-haired man who'd tried to comfort the short woman he'd called 'Red' on the limo. He assuredly places his tray down and smiles at Ramsay.

"Alright, red team, your name, where you're from, and your dish please?" Ramsay looks at his watch then clasps his hands behind his back.

"Heeeyyyy, Gordon, I'm Bella from Seattle. I call this dish 'Bella's Baked Ziti'. It's made with Italian sausage, pasta and tomato sauce with cheese," she says, her voice sickeningly sweet.

"It's Chef to you. Good God, I would've hoped I wouldn't have to say this to anyone again but your breasts are exploding from your shirt. Please cover yourself." He hands her a towel from over his shoulder. She takes it daintily and places it over her chest, flushed.

"Presentation is lacking, you have sauce everywhere on the rim of the plate. It looks like you just slapped it down. Did it do something to you to deserve this?" Ramsay lifts a corner of the ziti and wrinkles his nose. "You've broken the pasta from handing it so roughly. I'm surprised it stayed together long enough for you to walk it over to me. The filling is practically spilling out like your tits from your top. Let's hope it tastes better than it looks..." he mumbles as he cuts the ziti.

"You're lacking seasoning, but otherwise it is quite good. If only it looked better than slop. Get back in line!" He sharply jabs his finger at the red team and Bella scurries away with her tray, holding the towel over her bosom.

I couldn't help but feel a bit jealous of Bella getting a towel from Ramsay. Though it was only a towel that was meant to cover her breasts, he still had given it to her himself. I find myself strongly hoping that he will give me something of his eventually during my stay to remember him by.

"OK, blue team, your name, where you're from, and dish please?" Gordon's voice snaps me back to the present.

The man from the blue team somehow manages to make Gordon look average height– he is maybe two or three inches taller than the 6'2" Gordon Ramsay– but Gordon still looks far more intimidating than the muscular blue team contestant. Maybe I only think that because I know how intense Chef is.

"The name's Garrett from good ole' New York, New York. An' this here is my signature dish, tilapia scampi. A twist on the traditional shrimp scampi." Garrett watches eagerly as Ramsay inspects his dish.

Gordon lifts one end of the tilapia with a fork and motions with his other hand, "A little burnt here, but it looks good. Let's taste it..." he trails off, cutting into the fish and taking a bite.

"It's perfectly flaky, rich with good use of butter and garlic. Delicious. Just be more careful to not burn it next time and you should be golden." Ramsay smiles at Garrett and hands him his plate.

Garrett beams as he takes his plate back, almost forgetting the dome for his serving platter. He turns around to grab it and Chef is already holding it out to him. 

"Don't get too ahead of yourself, big boy," Ramsay teases, then follows up with, "It appears both teams are making a comeback, one point to each!"


	4. Signature Dishes Part 2/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last of the chefs present their dish to Ramsay, and yours is the tiebreaker!

Monday, June 24th, 2013

"Alright, next two please, you know the drill." Chef Ramsay nonchalantly shifts from one foot to the other and looks around impatiently, his smile replaced as suddenly as it had appeared.

From the red team lineup, an elegantly dressed Indian woman steps with poise towards Ramsay. She sets her tray down just as the blue team's contestant approaches– the bald man who put Bella in her place earlier.

"Red team– your name, where you're from, and dish please?" He looks at her expectantly.

"Chef, my name is Kalyani. I'm from Kodiak, Alaska. My signature dish is inspired by my mother's shrimp curry, passed down through our family. It prominently features coconut milk, curry and of course is pulled together by a hint of ground ginger."

Chef pulls the plate towards himself. "Alaska? They have excellent seafood there, don't they? It looks lovely, Kalyani, just lovely. I love traditional Indian food." He spikes a shrimp with his fork, swirls it in the curry and brings it to his mouth.

"Absolutely delicious, you've definitely had practice with this dish. Thank you." He nods at her, handing back her dish.

"And could you please introduce yourself, let us know where you are from, and tell us about your dish?" Ramsay addresses the bald man.

"Of course Chef, I'm Pietro from Oregon and I've made you one of my personal favorites, Pietro's Meatballs." He hands Chef his plate and stands back, watching carefully.

"Presentation is a bit lackluster, let's see about the flavor." He cuts into one of the meatballs and tastes it.

"What it was missing in looks it makes up for in a burst of deliciousness. Both teams get a point, wonderful. I hope we can keep up this quality. Next two chefs, please." He waves for the next two to come forward as Pietro makes his way back into line.

Up next, our red team contestant is the small and dainty freckled red-haired girl who'd been intimidated by Ramsay just from watching him on the television. I wonder how she'll fare now that she is inches away from him. Trailing just behind her is the blue team's contestant, the older gentleman who'd also prepared a scallop dish.

"Red team, what's your name, where are you from and what is the dish?" Ramsay asks, glancing at his watch again.

The girl– nicknamed 'Red' by Garrett earlier– hesitates.

"Well, love, we don't have all day. Please-" Ramsay reaches for her dish without waiting any longer for her to speak.

She seems to finally find her voice and meekly says, "My name is Mary from Maine, and I've made you a seared tuna with wasabi butter sauce." She looks at the ground the entire time she speaks.

Chef notices, of course, and quips, "Mary, please, look at me when you're speaking. I can't hear very well when you talk to your toes. Let's try the dish, shall we?"

Ramsay cuts into the tuna without waiting for her to answer and takes a bite.

"You've gone overboard on the wasabi, I can barely taste the tuna. It's too strong." He hands the dish back to 'Red' who starts to sniffle.

"Oh come on darling we can't have you breaking down already, the show has barely begun and there's much worse in store. If you can't handle it, please, I don't want to see you cry. You're welcome to go." He motions at the door in pity.

Red finally looks at him in the eyes and shakily responds, "No Chef, I can do it," then walks back to the line. I see her cheeks and ears are burning in embarrassment, so I try to not look any longer.

"Blue team, your name, where you're from, and dish please?" Chef asks, picking up the pace.

"Sir, my name is Shaun from New Orleans and I've prepared a Cajun seafood pasta for you today, including scallops and shrimp," he says as he hands the dish over.

Ramsay eyes it for a moment. "Is this meant to be a single portion? It looks like you planned to feed the lot of us. I understand people from the party city that is New Orleans often have eyes bigger than their stomachs, but I'm not one of them."

"Oh, yes sir it was meant for one portion. I'll cut down, I apologize," he replies calmly.

Chef grabs a fork and takes a bite.

"Your pasta is under-cooked and your scallops are over-cooked. A shame, as the sauce is excellent." He hands the dish back.

"I'm sorry, but neither team gets a point. This puts our current points at two for the red team and three for the blue team."

"Next up, please, and hurry." Ramsay turns his watch towards us and taps the face, indicating that the show is running a bit behind schedule.

Our contestant steps out of line, carrying her tray. I recognize her as Taylor from the airport– the girl who had shared my excitement and sat next to me in the limo. Under the spotlight, her hazel eyes shine and her short curly brown hair looks coppery against her light brown skin tone. Following her is blue team's shortest contestant– a young man with short, light brown hair.

"Red team, please, what is your name, where are you from and what dish have you prepared?" Ramsay asks, hurrying along.

"My name is Taylor. I'm from Oklahoma City and I've made a stuffed and wrapped chicken breast for you, Chef. It's got cream cheese and bacon." She steps back as Ramsay takes her plate and cuts into the chicken.

"Presentation is nice, your bacon is crisp and I can still see a little steam coming from it. Let's hope this chicken is cooked properly," he says as he pulls his fork to the side, revealing the inside of the chicken.

"Ah, great, it's cooked perfectly," he takes a bite, "and tastes wonderful, fantastic work Taylor. Back in line please." He hands her the plate and steps back.

"Blue team, let's see how you compare. Your name, where you're from, and describe your dish for me?" he asks.

"Hey, I'm Dylan from Utah. I've made you one of my favorites, old-fashioned mac n cheese." He hands the plate over and watches Ramsay carefully, one eyebrow cocked in the air.

"You've seriously spent forty-five minutes to make something my youngest daughter can make by herself in the kitchen? Oh golly, I hope it tastes astounding, it looks like rubbish." He sighs as he takes the plate.

He forks a bite into his mouth and spits it out a moment later into the bin next to him. "Good God Dylan, you've forgotten the salt! It just tastes like a big glob of cheese. Get this pile of goo out of my way." He hands the dish back to Dylan, his upper lip twitching in disgust.

"It's another no brainer that the red team has pulled this point. This ties the score at three to three. Next, please."

The next two contestants look worlds apart. Our red team lady is thin with tattoos over almost every inch of her arms aside from her hands and has cropped black hair. On the other hand, the blue team's contestant looks like he just came out of a high society brunch, what with having a tailored suit on and slicked back blond hair. The only similarity between the two is that they both have light blue eyes.

"Right, first– your name, where you're from, and dish please?" Gordon asks of the tattooed woman. She hands the dish over and locks eyes with Ramsay.

"I've made a winter vegetable hash, with potatoes, mushrooms, bell peppers, and squash to name a few. OH, and my name is Gina from Denver, Colorado," she adds with a huge grin.

"Winter vegetables in summer? Alright, then," he takes the plate. "It looks nice, but I do wish that you'd made something that showcased a bit more skill than a hash." He stabs a few of the vegetables and eats them.

"Ordinarily, I would hope to see more finesse but this will do. Thank you, Gina." He hands the plate back and Gina nods, stepping back into line.

"Alright blue team. What is your name, where are you from, and what have you made?"

"Abel, from Dallas, Texas. My dish is chicken Marsala over white rice with fresh mushrooms." His voice is like silk when he speaks and he doesn't have a hint of any sort of a Texan accent. A few girls glance at each other as if to see if anyone else noticed how nice he sounded when he spoke.

"Abel, did you know you'd be coming here to cook or did you think you were here to meet the president? I surely hope you're ready to ruin that nice suit jacket," Ramsay says as he takes the dish.

"I am not a messy cook chef, I can keep my clothes clean," Abel responds, nonplussed.

"Right then, the presentation is not as fancy as you, but still quite nice. The flavor-" 

Ramsay takes a bite. Then another.

"Absolutely delicious, if all of your food comes out as nice as this you have a very good chance of winning, Abel," he asserts as Abel smiles, bowing his head slightly as he turns back to stand in line.

"Abel's dish was superior, but Gina still managed to pull a point for her team- which puts us at a four to four stalemate. Let's see which of the next two breaks the tie, eh?" He motions for the last two contestants to approach...

Oh wait, that's me!

I carefully pick up my dish, hoping it's managed to stay fresh and warm even after being the second to last person to serve him my meal. As I approach the table, Gordon watches me keenly. Following behind me is the blue team's contestant, a rugged looking Korean man with a playful glint in his brown eyes.

"The final two dishes break the tie, are you nervous?" he asks me, examining my face.

"Of course Chef, but that's more to do with the excitement of being here than anything else," I respond, maintaining eye contact.

"Alright then dear– what's the name, where are you from, and describe your dish, please?" He extends his hand for my dish.

I hand it to him while I respond, "My name is (Y/N) from (City, State). Today I've prepared something I hope you will like. It's pan-seared scallops, with a white wine tarragon sauce topped with bacon."

Ramsay looks over the dish. "It looks delightful, you've clearly studied your presentation. But this sets your standard, you shan't disappoint me with lackluster presentation after this, correct Mrs. (Y/N)?"

I nod. "Of course Chef, I won't disappoint you."

"I'll hold you to that. Now let's see if it tastes as good as it looks." Chef Ramsay cuts into a scallop, rolls it in the white wine tarragon sauce and takes a bite.

"Absolutely heavenly. Thank you. I wish I could eat more, I really truly do." He smiles as he hands me back my dish. My hand lightly touches his as I take the plate from him, and I feel some blush run to my cheeks.

"Thank you, Chef," I say as I turn around quickly to get back in line. When I turn back to face him, he's still watching me, a curious look on his face. Then he turns to the blue team's contestant.

"Yes, the final dish. Your name, where you're from, and the dish, please?" He looks at his watch and back up at the contestant.

"Jay! My name is Jay from Chicago, Illinois, and I made you steak tips with a hearty mushroom sauce," Jay says as he hands the plate to Ramsay.

"The mushrooms look like, well, mush. Did you squish them?" he inquires.

"Uh, _no_... Well... _maybe_... I thought it'd get the flavor out into the sauce..." Jay responds sheepishly.

"Well, that it does, but it also would have the same effect if I just ate the mushroom with the sauce," Ramsay makes a point to say, embarrassing Jay further.

"Let's see about the taste, already I'm disappointed." Ramsay takes a fork of steak and mushroom.

"It tastes decent, but you've overcooked the steak. When cooking steak without being given a specific temperature, you should always go for medium rare. This here is well done. Which, consequently, is not well done on your part. The final point goes to the red team, breaking the tie and bringing them to first place to win the competition!" Ramsay claps with the red team. The blue team looks somber as Jay returns to the line, crushed in defeat.

"For your reward, you shall be having a lovely dinner made by yours truly. I will show you how to make a delicious dinner for eight and you're welcome to ask me any questions you might have. Now for the blue team, you have a lot of work to do. The kitchen is an absolute mess, I expect it to be cleaned to perfection. Now, get to it. Red team, let's head up to your dorm where I will be preparing your most amazing dinner."

All of the contestants belt out at the same time, "Yes, Chef!" and my fellow red team contestants turn around to walk to the dorm's kitchen. As I was last in line to go up to Chef, I am trailing behind everyone else as we leave for the dorms. I feel Ramsay's presence behind me. He's so tall it feels like I'm being towered over, even though he's a few feet of respectful distance away from me.

"Well done on your dish today, (Y/N). You really pulled through for your team," I hear Ramsay say. I turn my head and smile timidly.

"Thank you, Chef. I studied hard to be here and I was serious when I said I wouldn't disappoint you," I assert, confident but still a bit nervous at his closeness.

His head chef jacket is ironed cleanly, I trail my eyes up from chest level until I lock eyes with his fierce blue gaze. The corners of his lips curl up in a smile.

"I believe you. Be sure to ask me any questions you might have during the preparation of dinner today. I'll help you as best as I can," he says sincerely, causing me to have to turn away from him as I feel a glow start in my cheeks.

Gordon Ramsay wants to help me become a better chef! Maybe I wasn't fooling myself when I set out on this path so many years ago. I only hope I can keep my promise to not disappoint him.


	5. Cooking with the Chef

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chef Ramsay takes you under his wing.

Monday, June 24th, 2013

We filter into the dorm area for the first time since our arrival, giddy to spend time with Chef Ramsay. 

In the center of the common area, there is a midsize kitchen with a large stainless steel refrigerator. The countertops have a coffee machine, knife set and a rack of spices available for us to use. Across from the fridge, there is a raised bar area with six black bar stools tucked in place. 

Not far from the bar stool area sits a large wooden table surrounded by sixteen chairs. There is also an extra-large sofa- made to fit ten people or more- with four armchairs situated directly across from the couch. Across from the sitting area, there's a weightlifting machine. In the far corner of the dorms, the tiled floor shifts into wood and leads out onto a balcony with a sliding glass door separator.

I can hear a few chefs wondering among themselves as to what Ramsay will be preparing for us. As we get closer to the dorm's kitchen, I see eight beautiful steaks resting on pans.

"I thought I would prepare a meal that would help everyone really get a leg up on not only the meat station but anywhere your culinary career takes you. Steaks are one of THE staple foods of any restaurant- and 'Gordon Ramsay's London Cuisine' is not exempt from that statement," Ramsay's voice comes in clear from the back of the line as we begin to sit down on the bar stools outside of the kitchen where they are still able to get a good view. Those that miss out on a bar stool drag chairs over to the sides of the kitchen so they can still watch.

"I was wondering if the tiebreaker of tonight would be interested in some hands-on learning with me?" he posits, looking to me for my answer with excited eyes.

"Yes, of course, Chef! I would love to help in any way I can," I respond eagerly, nodding.

He smiles widely and clasps his hands together. "Good! Let's get to work shall we?"

Ramsay takes two aprons off a nearby hook and hands me one, winking.

"This will be quick but there is a lot to learn. Feel free to ask me questions during any point," he addresses all of the red team as he approaches the steaks with me on his heels like an obedient pet.

"The very first step is to make sure that we have a hot pan. You never cook meat starting off in a cool pan, or it will not sear properly," he states as he flicks on the burners.

"It will take a bit to heat up, so in the meantime, let's season the steaks. You'll want to put on enough salt that it begins to almost look like too much. This helps get a crisp sear." He grabs a large pinch of salt for each steak he seasons, and I follow suit, seasoning the steaks as quickly as I can. Our hands meet at the salt bowl multiple times, and Ramsay always lets me grab a pinch before him. A gentleman even in preparing food.

"Next up we'll want some large grains of pepper. Here you are dear, please season those for me?" he asks, handing me a pepper grinder.

I take the grinder with a nod and begin grinding out pepper onto the steaks. While I'm doing so, Ramsay addresses the red team.

"Now, one of the most important parts is a part I haven't shown you. Twenty minutes before you are ready to prepare your steak, you must remove them from the fridge. This helps them get to room temperature. If the steak is stone cold on the inside, you'll have to overcook the outside, which is just no good."

I finish seasoning the steaks and turn around to face Ramsay, who has his back to me. His shoulders are taught and the muscles in his forearms move fluidly as he motions to the red team while he speaks. I'm mesmerized until he turns back to face me.

"Ah, lovely. Well done, (Y/N)." He smiles at me and I smile back, trying to hide the fact I was checking him out. I then realize I was facing the entire red team while I stared at him... hopefully, they think I was concentrating on... whatever he was just saying.

"It looks like our pans are hot, which is excellent. Let's just add a touch of olive oil to each. We'll be cooking two steaks to a pan today, which makes for four burners used at the same moment. I'll watch over two, and you watch the other two please." He points to the two burners at the right of the stove.

"Chef, is there a preferred cut of steak for this cooking method?" Kalyani asks from her bar stool seat, leaning forward to get a closer look.

"For this particular demonstration, I am cooking top sirloin steaks for you all. Top sirloin is known to be much more tender than standard sirloin. It should be a real treat. Of course, you should always adjust your cooking times to fit the thickness of your steak, but this method should work for any similar cut. Good question, Kalyani." He nods to her, then turns to me.

"Let's lay these steaks down to begin their sear, be sure to lay it away from yourself so no oil pops back at you." He lays his steaks down slowly into the oil and I follow along, keeping pace with him.

"Now, thirty seconds later, let's flip the steak and check out our sear. Here's your tongs, love." He hands me the tongs and takes a pair for himself.

We flip the steaks and the sear looks perfect on all of them. Some of the red team even clap as they see how lovely they look.

"Now after another thirty seconds have passed, we want to render the fat along the sides. Just take the tongs and lean the steaks up sideways in the pan. Now we lean the pan to the side, and let the oil run down and do the work for us." He expertly holds both pans to the side and I try to follow, but fall a bit behind due to never having cooked like this before. By the time I get my steaks on their side and begin rendering the fat, it appears he's already finished his.

He doesn't seem to mind my slowness and doesn't say anything to me about it. Rather, he moves off to the side and grabs a head of garlic and places it on a cutting board, crushing it with his palm to break it into cloves. He takes each clove and crushes it in his hand before adding one clove to each pan, including mine. I've never seen anyone manage to crush a garlic clove with only their hands, and am quite amazed by his strength.

Finally, the sides of my steak finish rendering and I lay them down in the pan once more. The aroma of the garlic mixing with the meat is heavenly.

"Be sure to flip your steaks every minute, so that they get a nice even cook. Now, let's add a bit of thyme to the mix for a burst of delicious flavor." He takes the thyme and hands me some to add to my pans. I quickly add it in and continue flipping my steaks.

"Next up, we add some fresh butter. It really brings the whole dish together." He adds two tablespoons of butter to each pan and passes me a spoon.

"Baste it with the butter and olive oil mixture and you'll start to get an excellent steak with no burning whatsoever. Lastly, let's just take that garlic clove and rub it over the top to seal in the flavor," he demonstrates. 

"Now turn off the gas and let's remove the steaks from the pan."

I managed to catch up to him while he was crushing the garlic cloves, so I am ready to remove my steaks at the same time as he is. We place the steaks on two cutting boards.

"Now you should let them rest for a few minutes. (Y/N), thank you for your assistance. I couldn't have done it without you." He beams and reaches out to shake my hand.

Taking his hand in mine, I feel his thumb gently rub against the back of my hand, away from where the red team can see. It makes me feel hot under my collar, but it most likely doesn't mean anything. Either way, I break eye contact, unable to keep from getting hotter if I were to keep looking into his bright blue eyes.

"Please take a seat with the others and I will come 'round to serve you." He releases my hand and turns to the cabinets. I feel my fingertips tingle at the loss of his touch.

Quickly I shuffle into place with the rest of the ladies, many of whom are still staring at him as he reaches up to grab plates from one of the highest cabinets. I notice Gina is watching his ass very carefully, her tongue stuck out between her lips ever so slightly. Bella is resting her tits on the table most likely fishing for more attention while she watches Ramsay's muscular arms move with efficiency.

When he turns back to us, Gina quickly pulls her tongue back into her mouth and makes like she was studying her fingernails instead. Bella, however, has no shame and continues to watch Ramsay like a hungry lioness. Or maybe like a cow, considering her udders are laid out in plain sight of everyone.

"I bet you're happy you aren't the blue team right now. You all saw the state of the kitchen!" He mimes wiping away sweat to the laughter of many of the girls. He takes the plates and slides them towards each of us, stopping at Bella to give her a chance to move her breasts off the table first, an exasperated look in his eyes.

"Your most delicious steaks will be ready in a moment, I'm just going to cut them." He grabs a sharp, glinting knife and expertly cuts into the tender meat. He slides the steak onto the top of the knife and holds it there, bringing it to my plate and sliding it off carefully.

He carries on and eventually serves all of us. After serving, he pulls up a chair from the dining room table to the opposite side of the kitchen bar table and turns it so it's back is to us. He sits in the chair backward, his arms crossed and resting on the top rail of the backrest, his legs spread apart on each side of the chair. I can't help my mind from wandering to straddling him on the chair... I quickly look down at my steak and attempt to cleanse my mind before I get too worked up. _  
_

_What is this? Why am I thinking like this?_ I always knew he was my idol, but I didn't really think of him sexually until I was here... mere inches from him... getting his intense but caring attention.

"Is the steak alright, my darling? You haven't touched much," he addresse _s_ me with concern, causing me to have to look at him again.

"Oh yes, Chef, it's absolutely delicious. I was just, uh, trying to cement everything you've taught me to memory is all," I say somewhat shakily, trying desperately to keep a clean mind. His eyes bore into me like he can read my thoughts. _Oh good God, I surely hope not._

Thankfully his piercing eyes are moved off of my increasingly red face when Cindy chimes in with a rude remark.

"I wish I had gotten one of the steaks that Chef Ramsay made," she jeers, flicking a bit of the steak around her plate.

"What's the problem with the one that (Y/N) made, Cindy?" Ramsay probes.

"It's not cooked right. The side of fat isn't rendered properly." She forks a piece and holds it up for Ramsay's inspection. He leans up in the chair and examines it for a moment before plucking it off the fork tine and eating it.

"Cindy, that's expertly cooked," he scoffs, "you're just looking to nitpick. If you can't tell that that steak is cooked to perfection, I'm worried about seeing what you'll fuck up on the meat station. If you don't want to eat it, give it to me," he holds his hand out for the plate, much to Cindy's surprise.

Hesitantly, she hands the plate over as if she didn't really want to in the first place. Ramsay takes it and sets it down on the countertop in front of him and begins eating.

"Fucking delicious, (Y/N). Don't listen to Cindy, she's got marbles in her brain." He glares at Cindy before taking another bite, "Besides, I told you I wish I could eat more of your cooking and now I am getting to much sooner than I expected. So thank you for that." His glare is immediately transformed into appreciation when he looks back to me.

I can barely stand all the praise I've been getting. Sheepishly, I look down at my plate. I feel the woman who's been sitting next to me, Taylor, put her hand on my back and rub it.

"Nice work (Y/N), I agree, it's delicious." Her soft smile helps pull me out of my embarrassment.

"Thank you, both of you. I'm glad you like it," I address Taylor and Ramsay.

"So, Mr. Celebrity, what's it like living like you do?" Bella asks, her eyes practically turning into stars as she rakes them over his body.

"What ever do you mean, living like I do?" Gordon responds quizzically.

"I mean what is the glitzy, glamorous, perfect life like?" Bella bats her eyelashes dreamily, "I can't wait till I'm a celebrity chef when I win this!"

"Do you want the truth or the answer that will fall in line with your daydreams?" Gordon raises an eyebrow, setting his fork down.

"What?" she tilts her head.

"Well, I imagine dealing with people all the time gets to be a real headache for him," I interject as I feel his annoyance towards Bella growing.

"That there is very much the truth. Being a celebrity isn't all fun and games. I can't get a moment to myself, I rarely see my family, people expect me to be a showman for them constantly, and if I'm ever less than perfect people throw a bloody fit," he starts, "then I have to answer the same questions over and over again. I have money, but finding time to spend it on myself is nearly impossible."

Bella's lips form a hard line. "That doesn't sound very fun..."

"I'd say thirty percent of the time I'm having a good time. The rest of the time I'm stressed, pissed, and downright buggered," he picks up his fork and plays with it idly, "Still want the job?" he jokes.

"Erm..." Bella looks uncomfortable and shoves a piece of steak in her mouth so she doesn't have to respond. I take the moment of silence to try and get to know Chef Ramsay better.

"So, Chef. You used to play football? I remember reading about it in the prologue of one of your cookbooks," I try to pick up the conversation and maybe make him feel a bit happier.

"Yeah," he perks up, "bloody loved it, I did. I was fucking great at it, too."

I grin at him and he returns the smile. He leans forward, his eyes boring into mine, "if I could have continued playing, you'd be seeing me on the telly for more than just my cooking."

"What happened to make you have to quit?" I ask.

"Smashed the cartilage in my knee during one of my first games with the Rangers," he responds with a sad smile, "Football was my dream. I think it was the anger I had towards my dream being shattered that really pushed me towards being the chef I am today. I had to direct my competitiveness and my anger somewhere."

"As long as it's not at me!" Gina exclaims, earning a laugh.

The rest of the dinner flies by quickly. My steak- hand cooked by Gordon- _fucking_ -Ramsay- is the best steak I've ever eaten. Ramsay makes jokes and gets us all laughing. By the time we finish, the blue team starts filtering into the dorms, looking haggard.

"That's my cue ladies, I'll see you all bright and early tomorrow morning. We're having service tomorrow, so be sure to study your recipe booklets carefully. Good night, everyone." He nods as he stands up to leave and brushes past the blue team without a word.

My eyes trail after him as he heads towards the stairs. There's something incredibly magnetic about him. Maybe it's his prowess in the kitchen, or his good looks, or maybe just his personality, but I can't drag my eyes away from him until the last sliver of his blond hair disappears down the steps. 

Hell's Kitchen has just gotten a few degrees hotter.


	6. The Dorms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You make a new friend while studying your recipe booklet.

Monday, June 24th, 2013

Now that Chef Ramsay is gone, everyone goes to their dorm bedrooms to check for the inevitable chef jacket, card, and recipe booklet waiting for them on their beds. 

The red team's dorms are cramped, packed full with eight beds, each sporting a matching red pillow and blanket. I head towards my assigned bed eagerly.

Though I knew the jacket would be there, the moment I see it I feel a rush of happiness come over me. I'd worked as a chef at multiple different locations, but never did they supply me with a true chef's jacket. This will be my first one, and I'm going to wear it with pride.

I carefully place the jacket in the small drawer next to the bed and pick up the card that had been set on top of it.

It reads:   
'Thank you for becoming a part of Hell's Kitchen. You've been selected as part of an elite group of chefs for this opportunity to work for me at my London location, 'Gordon Ramsay's London Cuisine'. Please study your recipe booklets carefully and be ready to impress!   
-Gordon Ramsay'

The bottom of the card is signed by Gordon himself! I squeak a bit as I hold the letter, and set it by the bedside table delicately.

Lastly, the daunting recipe booklet... I pick it up and flip through the pages. A few of the other chefs from the red team lounge on their beds reading as well. I decide to step out and read in the main area for some better lighting.

With my recipe booklet held tight to my chest, I walk out and find a spot on the couch next to a lamp. I settle in to read the recipes, tracing my finger under each sentence.

Thankfully, many of the recipes are the same as he'd had in previous seasons. I'd been sure to study those before I arrived, so a quick re-read is enough to cement them in my mind. It is interesting reading Gordon Ramsay's personal way of cooking. I had read his books but this is different. Not only will I have to demonstrate mastery of the recipes but I'll also have to show that I can follow his directions exactly, as I know he'll be watching closely.

Suddenly, someone plops next to me on the couch. It's Taylor, the first contestant I'd met at the airport and the person who had sat next to me during dinner. She grins and holds her own recipe booklet up.

"Scary innit? So much to know and only one night to learn it! Do you want to practice with me?" her hazel eyes search my face for my answer.

"I figured since you were chosen by Chef Ramsay to be his personal assistant today, you're probably the one he has high hopes for. I'd like to get some of that magic rubbed off on me!" She laughs.

A little embarrassed but flattered, I decide I would be glad to make a friend here in the kitchen.

"For sure, Taylor. Let's be study buddies." I smile back at her and she pumps her fist in the air.

"Woo! We're gonna be the most prepared outta all these ladies! Blow him out of the water, right?" Taylor happily bounces in place on the couch.

"Yeah, sure Taylor" I respond,  
 _blow him._

 **AHEM.** _Out of the water that is._ My naughty thoughts from earlier come bounding back. I have to consciously push them out of the forefront of my mind. There's no time to be getting all worked up.

Taylor and I spend the next two hours quizzing and bouncing questions off each other. She is actually pretty damn good!

Sometime during our study session, Red had made her way to the couch. She's now sitting near us listening. I didn't even notice her presence until we start to gather our study materials to get ready for bed. She looks a bit shy and mumbles, "You two were having some really interesting conversations about these recipes, I figured I'd learn something if I were a part of it, but I was too anxious to butt into the conversation... I'm sorry..." She nervously wrings her hands together.

"It's alright Mary, do you mind being called Red? I keep thinking about it when I see you, but I don't want to call you that if it'd make you uncomfortable," I ask, genuinely curious.

"Oh no that's quite alright, I've always been called Red even before I got here. Either for my hair or because I blush real easy. It's not a problem, I'm used to it." She gives a small smile as we finish gathering our things.

All three of us are the last to enter the dorm bedrooms at around 1am. We settle in our beds and attempt to get as much sleep as possible for tomorrow's service.

There's no way I am going to disappoint Chef Ramsay.


	7. The First Dinner Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first service of Hell's Kitchen Season 11 is upon you!

Tuesday, June 25th, 2013

Everyone in the dorms wakes up around 6am or so. We have some time for ourselves, so we all spend it further studying the recipe booklet.

Well, almost all of us. Bella spends as much time as she can cozying up to the men on the blue team. It is easy for her to get their attention and she holds it as long as she can. I'm fairly certain she is either being stupid and sabotaging herself or she'd studied hard enough last night and is attempting to distract the men so they can't study. Either way it isn't hurting anyone on the red team but potentially her, so I am not bothered.

After the hour of study and breakfast we had to prepare for ourselves, Sous Chefs Scott and Christina come upstairs to greet us. Scott stands a head taller than Christina and the way he crosses his arms gives me flashbacks to the first time I saw Gordon on the limo's TV. I recognize Christina as the previous season's winner. She hasn't changed much from how she looked last season- her straight, shoulder length black hair and black rimmed glasses frame her jovial face. It is pretty amazing to see her here as one of Chef Ramsay's Sous chefs. I quietly hope if I win, I will be able to assist Ramsay in the future just like Christina. 

"I see everyone's wearing their jackets." Scott quickly glances about the room. "Good, because it's time that we all get to the kitchen and prep for tonight's dinner service! Come on everyone, follow Christina and me."

Scott turns on his heel and walks down the stairs. Now Cindy looks about ready to pounce. She leans into Gail and whispers loud enough for anyone who is paying attention to hear,

"Chef Scott has always been the sexiest man in Hell's Kitchen. What I wouldn't give to lick his bald head." she arches her eyebrows and starts laughing, which evolves into a coughing fit as we walk down the stairs.

Gail looks alarmed and a bit put off, but otherwise doesn't respond. Kalyani, on the other hand, had heard what Cindy said and almost cartoonishly reels backward to put herself much further back in line, as far away from Cindy as she can get.

We file into the kitchens, the women lining up wearing their new red chef jackets while the men line up in their kitchen on the opposite side. Ramsay is waiting for us at the head of the kitchens and nods his head in greeting.

"Good morning everyone, today we'll be prepping for our first dinner service of this season. I have high hopes for all of you. Please oh please do NOT let me down. I have a gift for you all."

He leans down and pulls out a box filled with thin black packages.

"Here are your new knife sets. They are quite sharp, so please be careful, right?" Ramsay passes each set out and we all pass the kits down the line until everyone has received one.

Giddily, I take the knife set and open it, examining the perfect blades inside. A beautiful set given to me by Chef Ramsay himself. The fact that Ramsay made sure to give us the best knives in the industry speaks volumes for how much he believes in each one of us. I'll treasure them for as long as I live.

"Alright now that that's sorted, we have a lot of prep for this dinner service. Please be quick. Service is starting at five pm tonight. I'll leave you to it." Ramsay nods curtly, then turns and heads back into his office. I wonder what he'll be doing in there for the next ten hours before dinner service, but I don't get much time to think about it before Sous Chef Christina hurries the red team along.

"Come on girls, you don't want to lose the first dinner service, that'd set you all off on the wrong foot for sure and Ramsay doesn't forget things like that," she leans in a bit, "and I have a hundred-dollar bet with Scott that you all win. So please don't make me regret it." She grins at us and then proceeds to shoo us along.

The majority of us seem confident in our prep. Though there were some missteps, everyone helps each other along and we make it through with no big issues.

The blue team fares much worse. I can hear occasional cursing coming from their side of the kitchen. Maybe Bella was sabotaging them for us this morning?

The fastest ten hours of my life so far pass in the blink of an eye. Chef Ramsay flits down the stairs and approaches the head of the kitchen as quiet as a cat. I'm not sure anyone but myself sees him standing there, in fact. He notices me looking at him and gives a small wave with the hint of a smile. I feel myself return the smile before I can even think about it.

He claps his hands together, startling many of the chefs from both teams.

"Let's go ladies and gentlemen, line up please. Come on, hurry now!" He claps once more.

"Right, I hope you all are ready for tonight. It's going to be a tough day but I expect excellence. Show me you deserve that expectation. So, blue team. Garrett. What are our entree meals for this service?" Ramsay poises the question then watches Garrett expectantly.

Garrett winces and looks across the room at Ramsay helplessly, partially shrugging his shoulders.

"What, Garrett, did you not study? What have you been prepping all this time? Come on big boy I expect so much more out of you," he pinches the bridge of his nose then sighs. "Take your recipe book back upstairs and study and don't come back down until you can recite the entire menu PERFECTLY. Do I make myself clear?" Ramsay barks.

Garrett nods profusely, grabs his recipe book and launches himself up the stairs. Many of the blue team members shake their heads in exasperation.

"Can any of you name the entrees for tonight?" Ramsay asks the blue team somewhat hopelessly.

"Chef, it's filet of beef, rack of lamb, crispy skin salmon, and miso glazed cod," Pietro's commanding voice booms from the back of the blue kitchen lineup.

"Very well done, Pietro. Thank you. I expect you all won't forget this now." Chef Ramsay turns away from the kitchen and towards his maitre d', who is centering a tablecloth on one of the dining room tables.

"Jean-Philippe, please open Hell's Kitchen." he nods towards Jean-Philippe, who returns the nod and makes his way elegantly towards the doors.

Customers file in, quickly filling Hell's Kitchen to full capacity. This will be my first service serving an entirely full dining room. Usually, the restaurants I worked with didn't have half the reputation of Hell's Kitchen and thus had a much more lax dinner service. I know there will be no time for rest and everything has to be absolutely perfect. Anxiety claws at me but I push it down, there is no way I'll fail Ramsay. Especially not after I'd told him to his face I wouldn't.

Bella and Cindy are assigned to the appetizer station. Up next, Gina and Red at the fish station. Taylor and Kalyani are on garnish.

I am assigned to the meat station with Gail, eager to show off my skills. I feel especially blessed having had a personal cooking lesson in steaks from Ramsay the day before I am expected to cook meats perfectly. Nothing is going to keep me from perfection today.

The red team's waiter arrives with a ticket.

" Six covers, table thirty one. Four pan seared scallops and two lobster risotto, please," Ramsay calls out to us.

"Yes, Chef!" comes the resounding response from the kitchen.

Bella immediately works on the risotto, while Cindy gets right on to cooking scallops. Those of us at other stations watch in anticipation for them to finish.

Suddenly, Ramsay cuts in angrily. "What are you doing, Cindy? You've started the scallops already? They take four minutes to cook and lobster risotto takes eighteen! You're already wasting food and we haven't even served the first table!"

Cindy apologizes and removes the scallops from the heat, leaving them in the pan. Ramsay walks over briskly then turns the pan over into the garbage bin.

"These will never cook properly now that you've started them fourteen minutes early. Get a grip," he growls at Cindy then walks back over to the blue kitchen to call out their ticket.

His growl was very, very nice. I couldn't stop myself from imagining what other noises he might make that would sound so feral and... _there I go again._ I sigh as I attempt to pull my mind away from those thoughts once more.

Finally, appetizers manage to cook and go up to the pass. Ramsay inspects them and turns around with a hugely disappointed look on his face.

"These scallops are raw, Cindy. You started them too early and now you're starting them too late. Everything will have to be re-done. Good God Cindy you're hampering your whole team. Will someone help her?" he asks of us.

Quickly I volunteer.

"Yes Chef, I can cook the scallops."

"Great, I know you know how to cook them. Please explain to Cindy what she's doing wrong. And please don't waste any, we're already running low on scallops due to a mishap during the blue kitchen's prep." He nods to me then turns back to the blue kitchen. I make my way over to the appetizers where Cindy is looking incredibly flustered.

"I don't know why I sent those up. I'm so nervous I'll get eliminated. Please teach me, (Y/N)..." she whispers under her breath. I pat her back and then begin explaining exactly what she should do.

After a short while, appetizers are ready once more. I bring up our new batch of scallops to the pass and slide them next to Ramsay. He turns to the plate and touches the scallops, then lifts up the plate and carries it to the front of the red kitchen.

"(Y/N)?" he asks.

"Yes, Chef?" I respond, a bit nervous.

"They look beautiful. Spectacular job. Hopefully, Cindy learned from you and can handle her own station now, because I need you on meats," he compliments me, then plates the scallops.

I'm on cloud nine as I head back to the meat station. The rest of the dinner service passes in a blur of filet of beef and rack of lamb. Not one of my dishes are sent back, and neither are any of the dishes that Gail cooks.

Gina and Red seemed to have a bit of difficulty with cooking the salmon properly but quickly recovered. Garnishes went off without a hitch.

Amazingly, the red team manages to finish dinner service. The blue team doesn't fare as well, however. Their prep was wrong and they didn't have enough scallops to finish getting out appetizers.

At the end of dinner service, Ramsay asks both the kitchens to switch off. It seems the blue team have managed to hobble into a completed service with three of their members- Alex, Dave, and Shaun- having been kicked out of the kitchen.

"Well, it's quite obvious that the red team has pulled a win today. Congrats, red team and thank you for not absolutely tanking as the blue team has done. You all can go upstairs and relax until elimination time. On the other hand, blue team, deliberate on the names of two people you don't want on your team anymore and then get back down here. Now get out of my sight." Ramsay waves his hand to dismiss us.

"Oh, and (Y/N)? He calls to me from the front of the kitchen. I turn around to face him while everyone else filters out of the room.

"Yes, Chef?" I inquire.

"Stellar job. Thank you for saving appetizers. Without you, your team wouldn't have even made it past the first table. Absolutely well done." He gives me a beaming smile then waves to me before turning around and heading back to his office.

I rejoin the rest of the red team after a moment, still floating on cloud nine.


	8. Elimination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who's going to be kicked off the show on tonight's episode of Hell's Smitten?

Tuesday, June 25th, 2013

Most of the girls and I sit around on the couches waiting to be called down for the blue team's elimination. Cindy taps my shoulder and jerks her neck to the side to signal that I should follow her.

She takes me into the hallway and puts her hand on my arm.

"Thank you so much for keeping Chef Ramsay off my case today. I know I'd be up for elimination if it weren't for you. Let me know if there's any way I can repay you. Thank you." She sounds sincere while her grip on my arm tightens and her nails dig into my skin.

I try to nonchalantly remove my arm from her vice grip. I don't think she realizes how much pain she's causing me as she continues to squeeze.

"Of course Cindy, I'll keep that in mind. Really it's no problem," I respond as I feel my arm tingle from lack of blood.

Cindy smiles gratefully at me and releases my arm, which has a white imprint of her fingers on it for a few seconds before normal blood flow resumes. I rub my arm to facilitate getting feeling back while I walk back towards the couch.

My journey to the couch is cut short by the telephone ringing. It is on a stand in the middle of the room, and since I am the only one who is still standing up, I go for it.

"Hello, it's time for the blue team's elimination. Would you ladies gather in the dining room, please?" Ramsay's voice comes in clear over the phone.

"Of course Chef, we'll be right down."

"Lovely, thank you, (Y/N). See you soon." his smooth British accent makes my name sound extra beautiful. It also makes me somewhat giddy to know that he recognizes me over the phone just by my voice.

"Come on ladies, Chef has called us down to get seated before the elimination happens," I address the girls.

They all stand up. Well, all except for Gina, who bounces right off the couch without using her hands and takes the lead down the hallway towards the stairs.

Taylor waits for me to approach her and walks down the stairs with me.

"I can't believe we actually did well on our very first service. How often does that happen?" she chats.

"Not very!" I laugh a bit, "hopefully we can keep it up. We've never seen an all-female final five yet but we might have the makings for it!" I look at Taylor, who smiles and nods her agreement.

"So long as you and I make it to the end, I'll be happy," she adds right as we enter the dining room. Everyone goes silent as we gather in a booth together.

About two minutes later, the blue team file in looking haggard. Many of them are making sour faces at each other as they line up in a typical fashion to wait for Ramsay.

A few moments later, Ramsay enters the dining room and walks until he is about twelve feet away from the blue team. He clasps his hands together in front of him.

"Well, blue team. I trust you've come to a consensus?" his eyes scan the men.

There are a few nods from the blue team.

"Great. Alex, your first nominee and why, please."

Alex clears his throat before responding. "Yes Chef. We decided on Dave as our first pick. He really dropped the ball on appetizers by not prepping enough scallops for dinner service."

Ramsay nods. "Right, and your second nominee?"

"Our second nominee is me, Chef," Alex sighs. "My team decided that I had one too many screwed up risottos."

"Don't forget the part where you tried to argue with me over how to make my own fucking food menu," Chef Ramsay adds, his eyes piercing.

"Yes, Chef. That too." Alex drops his gaze like a dog being reprimanded.

"OK. Dave. Alex. Come here." He points his finger in front of himself and waits for them to approach.

"Dave, please tell me why you deserve to stay in Hell's Kitchen." Gordon shifts his shoulders back and crosses his arms, listening.

"Well Chef, I know I made a big mistake by not prepping enough scallops- but I KNOW I'm not the worst chef here," Dave states, getting a bit worked up.

"Who is the worst chef on your team then, Dave?" Ramsay inquires.

"Alex, Chef. Not only did he over and then under-cook the risotto, but he also started an argument with you about it. That's not how you learn and improve."

To this there is a small nod from Ramsay, he tilts his head a bit as if considering Dave's words. "Right, then Alex please tell me why you deserve to stay in Hell's Kitchen."

"Chef, you gotta give me another chance. I'm a high-level chef who's worked on the line for eight years. I know what I am doing, I just let my nerves get to me. Please Chef..." he pleads.

Chef Ramsay stands for a moment, then uncrosses his arms and places his palms together in front of him.

"The person leaving Hell's Kitchen today is...." he eyes the two men in front of him for a moment and points at one, "Alex, bring me your jacket. Sorry, but just because you have experience on the line doesn't mean you know how to prepare my menu better than I do. You should've come here to learn, not pick fights. I can't have that kind of animosity in the kitchen."

Alex hangs his head and removes his jacket, handing it over to Ramsay who takes it and folds it over his arm.

"Goodbye, and good luck," Ramsay adds as Alex wordlessly exits the building.

"Dave, I expect you to step it up from now on, right? I don't want to see you in front of me again for something as basic as prep. You hear me?" his eyes bore into Dave.

"Of course Chef. You can count on me." Dave nods seriously and turns to rejoin the blue team lineup.

"Great, get some sleep everyone. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Goodnight." Ramsay waves the blue team off and comes to stand next to the booth that the red team has gathered at.

"I see great leadership qualities in a few of you and I'd like to hear your voices more in the kitchen. Make my job a little easier and help each other out, right? Good work red team. Keep it up." He opens one arm towards the back of the kitchen in a gesture for us to head back to the dorms.

"Yes, Chef!" we shout all together as we make our way back to the stairs.

Taylor starts chatting to me once more, but I'm not paying attention. I look behind myself and see that Ramsay is still watching me. He dips his head to me with a dazzling grin.

Taylor notices me not paying attention and turns her head to follow my gaze, but Ramsay had already turned away and began walking up the steps to his office.

She pokes me in the rib with her elbow, "Hey, (Y/N), you know he's married right?" she asks, causing me to choke a bit as I turn back to face her.

"Uh, yeah I know that. I didn't mean anything by..." but Taylor raises her hand dismissively.

"Hey, it's a tough gig and everyone needs a break sometimes," she gives me a knowing smile and leans in close to my ear to whisper, "even if it's just staring at some eye candy. 'Sides, I think he likes you too. A little innocent flirting never hurt anyone."

My face flushes red, which I'm sure gives away what Taylor has already deduced.

I most definitely have a crush on Gordon Ramsay.


	9. Interviews

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The camera crew is eager to hear just why Taylor reminded you that Chef Ramsay is married...

Tuesday, June 25th, 2013

So, as opposed to how it seems on the television, Hell's Kitchen contestants aren't taken aside right after something happens and asked their opinion on it. At the end of the day, each of us is pulled one by one to the interview room in which we're asked questions. These questions can be anything from basic "How are you feeling?"-type questions to "what do you think of (x) contestant?"

Something I realized early on is that this is still a TV show and they are fishing for any sort of drama they can air to the American public. They also are not above splicing together voice clips to make it sound like I'd said something I didn't actually say. We also have to keep a mic on and running almost the entire duration of these four weeks of Hell, so watching what I say is imperative. The only day we have free from both the cameras and the microphones is Sunday- and all of us are already pining for it to arrive. These are all things I try to keep in the back of my mind as I'm finally called for my interview.

A middle-aged woman sits in a chair across from me in the small interview room. Her brown eyes pierce through me as she takes me in with one sweeping motion of her gaze. She leans forward in her chair and addresses me.

"Welcome, (Y/N). Please sit down. Have you been having a good time?" The camera crew- one cameraman, one boom operator, and the interviewer/director- all go silent waiting for my response.

"Of course! I've been training to come here ever since I was sixteen. This is really a dream come true for me," I respond quite happily.

"That's great, how did it feel to save the red team on the first night's service?" the interviewer probes. 

"I felt like I earned Chef Ramsay's trust when I took over and helped Cindy with her station. She was floundering, but I helped pull her back up and she was able to help herself after that."

So far the questions are too easy. I know they'd heard at least part of what Taylor had said, I am just waiting for-

"We heard Taylor tell you that Chef Ramsay was married. What was that about?" Now the camera crew is really listening. It feels like I'd jumped into a shark tank and they are swimming around me with hungry eyes.

"Oh, nothing. I guess she was just curious as to if I knew. I did, though. Wasn't news to me." I try to shrug off the question, but the interviewer isn't satisfied.

"So you're not interested in him?" She leans in closer. Her mid-length, greying brown hair slides off her shoulders and hangs limply beside either side of her angular face.

"Only as a teacher," I try to sound convincing, acutely aware of her eyes probing into mine, "the best cooking teacher in the world," I add.

Fortunately, it seems they didn't catch the tail end of Taylor's whisper to me, or I'm sure they'd be hounding me harder than they already are.

"Alright then Ms. (L/N), you're welcome to return to the group now. Please send in Taylor after you." The interviewer smiles, but there is no kindness behind it.

I walk into the lounge area. Taylor and Gina are sat on the couch chatting about which blue team member they believe will be eliminated next. Gina seems really insistent on Dave being upped.

"He's just too goofy. He can't stay serious for ten minutes. He's gonna get on Chef's bad side with a mistimed joke. Just you watch," Gina says confidently.

"Hey Taylor, they asked me to come to get you." I tap her shoulder.

Taylor turns to me with a smile and stands up.

"Don't worry, (Y/N), I've got your back." She winks at me as she leaves for the interview room.

I sincerely hope that she won't say anything about what she'd deduced about my budding infatuation with Chef Ramsay. All I can do is sit back and trust her. At least I never verbally confirmed anything so I knew that even if she does give me away, all it could be counted as is hearsay.

Plopping down in Taylor's spot, I let out a heavy sigh. Gina seems intent on continuing to talk to someone.

"(Y/N), what did they ask you about in the interview room?" She tilts her head.

"Oh you know, just things about our first service. Like 'How do I like it here?' Just basic stuff." I avoid telling her too many specifics.

Gina rests her chin on her palm and leans her elbow into the arm of the sofa. Her tattoos are bright rainbow hues of color, but she is a bit too far away for me to make the shapes out.

"What are your tattoos anyway, Gina?" I ask, not only trying to change the subject but also genuinely curious.

"Oh, these are all of my favorite flowers. I couldn't pick just one so I had the artist put them all together. Like a permanently blooming bouquet. If only I could tattoo the smell of each flower onto them, I think I'd die happy." She gives me a genuine smile.

"I love when people ask. You don't get two ultra bright sleeve tattoos without hoping people ask you what they are, you know?"

"For sure. They're beautiful." and they really are. I'd never gotten a tattoo as I'm too afraid of needles, but I do appreciate people who have gotten artwork they love permanently inked into their skin. It must be nice carrying around art you adore everywhere you go.

Gina and I talk a bit more about her tattoos and then some about our last service and before I know it, Taylor is back by the couch. She slides into place between Gina and myself and puts her arms around each of our shoulders.

"Ladies, we're gonna win this. The boys got nothin' on the dream team. Look, even the girl I thought would be causing us problems is always off with the blue team anyways." She uses her hand that is on my shoulder to point towards Bella, who is making goo-goo eyes at Abel. Abel is ignoring her as best as he can, turning up his eyes to the ceiling rather than look down at her and invariably at her chest, which she thrusts forward.

"Yep, we're golden." Taylor rests her head on my shoulder and contentedly sighs, "I ~love~ no drama."


	10. Wakey Wakey Eggs and... Fish?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay surprises everyone, but especially you.

Wednesday, June 26th, 2013

Early the next morning we are woken up by loud pots and pans banging in the kitchen. Groggily, I throw my pillow over my head and try to squeeze out the noise.

Gail, on the other hand, decides that she's had enough. She quickly gets out of bed and exits the dorm. Shortly after, I can hear her berating someone.

"You've gone and woken up everyone at five thirty in the morning! What in the world are you doing?" Her voice sounds wholly intimidating even through my pillow ear cover.

I can't make out the reply, but it sounds as if it is one of the men on the blue team responding to her. I get curious and decide to quietly slip from bed and peek outside the door to see who is being reprimanded.

Jay is standing dumbfounded in the middle of the kitchen, holding a pan midair that has what looks to be partially cooked scrambled eggs.

"We've got an incredibly long, grueling, painful day ahead of us and you've woken up everyone with your careless banging!" She leers angrily at Jay. Even though her anger, she maintains a perfectly stiff posture, reminding me somewhat of Professor McGonagall when she chastised Harry Potter for exploring school grounds past curfew.

He slowly sets down the pan of eggs and quietly mutters, "I was only trying to make everyone breakfast..."

"Even if that was your intention, we don't normally have to be awake until seven and anything you'd make now would be cold by that point!" Gail hisses through clenched teeth.

By this point, everyone is either awake and milling about or groaning dazedly in bed. It seems our third day in Hell is starting early, and not even because of some ridiculous stunt, but because of one feckless member of the blue team attempting to get on everyone's good side.

Gail looks around and notices more and more sleepy and bedraggled people filtering into the room.

"Fantastic. Good luck to both of our teams. We'll be lucky to barely pull off whatever crazy scheme Chef Ramsay has cooked up for us today," Gail's words are full of venom as she locks her steely gaze onto Jay, who makes a small defeated sound.

We'd all managed to get to bed at around 12 am last night, so I definitely hold some resentment towards Jay as well. I can't help but nod my silent agreement with Gail, and I notice no one on the blue team even bothers to try to help defend him.

Slowly but surely our early day gets started. I notice Garrett hopping onto the exercise machine as he'd done yesterday morning. Red, Shaun, Dave, Cindy, and Kalyani all pass around bowls and pour out some cereal and milk. Abel and Dylan are sitting on the couch and flipping through their recipe booklets together. Bella is most likely in the bathroom attempting to look as good as possible before revealing herself to the public. Taylor finally walks out of the women's dorm, her eyes drooping. The sound of what I can only assume are Pietro's snores filter out from the men's dorm. I am amazed that he'd managed to sleep through all this fuss.

Gina finally breaks the tension between a bristling Gail and a diffident Jay by picking up Jay's still half cooked eggs and resuming cooking them. This seems to break Jay from his stupor, and he joins Gina in making enough eggs for everyone who is awake, turning his back to Gail. Still fuming, Gail sits down on a kitchen bar stool and glares daggers at the back of Jay's head. I make a mental note to never wake Gail up if I want to live.

"What's all the ruckus about..." the sleepy voice of Taylor murmurs at my side, her curly brown hair in a tangled mess. "I sure hope today is an easy day. Then hopefully we can hop back in bed and sleep off this terrible morning wake-up."

Right as we all finish our breakfasts, Pietro and Bella both emerge from their respective dorms. Almost immediately after, Sous chefs Scott and Christina come upstairs to greet us.

"Early risers today, eh? I see you all are looking to get a head start on today's work," Christina jokes, smiling at us. "Good thing too. Chef Ramsay will need to be seeing you all in no more than three minutes outside the doors of Hell's Kitchen. You won't be needing your chef's jackets. Just wear something you don't mind getting dirty. Hurry up now, everyone."

Scott and Christina walk back downstairs. The rest of us exchange foreboding glances before- as rapidly as we can muster- getting dressed and making our way downstairs.

The glare of the early morning sun outside of Hell's Kitchen causes the majority of us to either squint or hold a hand over our eyes. That is when I notice Chef Ramsay at the bow of a relatively large fishing boat!

He looks devastatingly handsome wearing a crisp white ship captain uniform, sunglasses, and a captain's hat. The parts of his blond hair that make their way out from beneath his hat are shining like liquid gold in the sun.

"Good morning chefs! Come on up!" Ramsay shouts to us, then throws a knotted rope ladder over the side of the boat. Pietro laughs, but quickly realizes that Chef Ramsay is serious.

We climb into the boat as best as we can. Garrett and Ramsay both have to reach over the side and take each of Pietro's arms to help pull him onto the deck of the boat after he only makes it halfway up the rope ladder. I am last in line to board the boat, and Ramsay reaches his hand down to grasp mine. Though I could have made the climb myself, I'm not going to pass up the chance to be pulled onto the boat by those muscular arms. After pulling me up, Ramsay continues to hold my hand for just a moment longer than necessary. When he takes his hand from mine, I notice a small paper folded in my palm, which I quickly ball into a closed fist to hide it from the cameras. He plays it off perfectly, turning right to the other chefs.

"I see you all are ready to get dirty, yes? Today, we'll be catching our own fish to serve at tomorrow's dinner service!" Ramsay looks excitedly at all of us. Dave grins widely and pumps his fist, but no one else seems to share his enthusiasm.

"Oh come on now, it'll be fun!" Gordon exaggeratedly pouts, which causes a few laughs here and there. I distractedly run my thumb over the paper in the palm of my hand and wish desperately that I could read what it says without drawing attention.

"We'll be headed to the Santa Monica Pier just about thirty minutes away. Though this is a beautiful beach, we won't be lounging about. We will spend all this morning and afternoon fishing, and then return to Hell's Kitchen for our real competition- cleaning, gutting and filleting all the fish that we catch!" Ramsay claps his hands together. Pietro groans.

"Is there a problem, Pietro?" Ramsay turns to the stout man, who is holding his stomach.

"Chef, I haven't eaten breakfast today and I get seasick. Like, really bad." He looks pitifully at Chef Ramsay.

Ramsay holds his hand to his chin while resting his elbow in his other palm. He thinks for a moment then responds, "Alright Pietro, you're welcome to sit out this one." 

Pietro looks shocked at the possibility of having an easy day, but that doesn't last long as Ramsay continues, "Go meet with Scott and Christina, I'm sure they can find something for you to do while the rest of us are out on the ocean." He motions for Pietro to climb back down the boat. He struggles, but eventually makes his way down without injury.

Shortly after Pietro starts walking towards the entrance doors, Ramsay instructs us all to take a seat. The truck towing our boat starts up and pulls out of the parking lot of Hell's Kitchen. Chef Ramsay stands at the bow looking out at the road like he's sailing the open seas.

The small folded paper in my hand causes me to burn with curiosity. Ramsay obviously wants to tell or ask me something, but what is it? My mind tumbles over the possibilities as the truck tugs us towards our destination.


	11. What A Catch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally have a moment to read that secret note that Chef Ramsay passed to you...

Wednesday, June 26th, 2013

We arrive at the Santa Monica pier in no time at all. The truck helps to lower our fishing boat towards the water. Chef Ramsay takes the helm, steering us backward slowly until the boat is safely into the water.

Red peers carefully over the edge of the boat. "This is my first time being on a boat. Actually, this is my first time seeing the ocean, too," she nervously states to no one in particular, eyes locked onto the endlessly deep blue water.

Dave saunters up to Red and taps her shoulder, breaking her daze.

"You know Red, I'm a really good swimmer. If you fall in, you'll be fine, I've got you!" Dave makes a Superman pose and smiles at her.

She looks even more afraid, however. "I wasn't even thinking about falling in! Is that going to happen? Does that happen often? Oh God..." She starts wringing her hands together.

Dave deflates, then sits down next to her. "Aw Red, I didn't mean to scare you. I thought that's what you were worried about is all," he mumbles.

After that exchange, I know that Red is probably going to be paralyzed for the remainder of however long we are going to be out fishing.

"(Y/N)?" comes Chef Ramsay's voice from the cockpit of the boat. I make my way over to him.

"Yes, Chef?"

"Would you mind being a dear and grabbing the bait and tackle box from the cabin? We need to start getting everyone's lines baited," he requests, his blue eyes still steady on the ocean before him.

"Of course Chef, I'll go get it now," I respond, making my way below deck. The ship isn't that large, and below deck, I can't make out any camera crew. This is my chance!

Hurriedly, I open the note that Ramsay had secretly given me. On it is a single question.

"Are you single?" written in fine penmanship.

My eyes widen and my heart begins to pound. Is this for real? It is such a small gesture and reminds me of being in middle school passing notes. Though, with all the cameras, this is probably the best way for him to ask. But why me? Isn't he married, anyway? I have so many questions and no real way to answer them. Or answer him! How am I going to respond to this without drawing attention? Oh good God, my face is heating up.

Should I even answer him? What would he hope to get out of this anyways?

Pondering my options, I search for the bait and tackle box.

After about a minute, I find the box and take hold of it. My heart is still pounding out of my chest.

I decide that I will respond to him. After all, he wouldn't have asked me if he didn't have a plan...

With new resolve, I make my way back to the cockpit of the ship. This time, Ramsay turns to look at me over his shoulder. When his eyes lock on mine, I slowly and purposefully shake my head 'yes'. Almost immediately, I see a fire behind his eyes ignite. Walking towards him, I hold out the tackle box.

"Thank you, darling," his voice is smooth and soft. He takes the box from my hands and gives me a knowing gaze before brushing past me to the deck of the ship.

"Everyone, please come grab some bait! We'll need to catch as many fish as possible so please don't be wasteful. Does everyone know how to hook a worm?" he asks.

There is a mixture of "Yes" and "No"s.

"Right, for those of you that don't know how to do this, it's really quite easy," Ramsay says as he grabs a worm and threads it through the hook cleanly.

Bella gasps.

"But, that worm is alive!!" she nearly shrieks.

"Well yes, that's what attracts the fish," Ramsay states.

"Someone is going to have to hook my line for me," Bella looks almost green.

Dylan, eager to help, makes his way over to Bella and hooks a worm for her. Bella coquettishly looks at Dylan while twirling her hair between her fingers. "Thank you, handsome. You'll help me hook each of these yucky worms, won't you?"

Entranced, Dylan nods his head.

"Thank you baby." She smiles and blows a kiss to Dylan. He goes red immediately and nods, gulping.

Ramsay rolls his eyes at Bella before turning towards the rest of us. "Right, now let's all cast our lines and get to catching tomorrow's fresh fish dinner!" He claps his hands together.

Throughout the entire time we are fishing, I keep stealing glances at Ramsay. Usually, he is nonchalantly steering the boat through the ocean waters. But once or twice our eyes lock, and I can feel an intensity in his gaze that I'd never felt from anyone before.

Occasionally he heads out onto the deck with us to examine the fish we catch and names the species for us. Each time one of us would catch a fish, we'd cheer for one another.

Bella makes herself known, carousing among the men and flirting up a storm. She especially seems to have Dylan and Dave worked up over her. Jay also watches Bella closely, but I'm not sure if it is because he desires her attention as well, or because he is enjoying the spectacle that is Bella's non-stop toying with the other men.

She walks over to Dave and stands next to him, watching him fish and completely ignoring her own pole. She touches his arm and  Dave leans against the side of the boat in an effort to look cool, which is immediately thwarted by his line reeling out of control. He races to his fishing rod, but it is too late- the line snaps as soon as he takes the pole in his hand.

"Oh, come on..." Ramsay groans as he turns to see a bewildered Dave holding a pole with no fishing line.

"Sorry Chef..." Dave responds, defeated.

Bella laughs haughtily, saunters over to Dylan and whispers something in his ear. They both began to laugh. Dave looks hurt.

"Well, go on and get a new fishing line. You don't get a free pass for being lazy watching your rod." Gordon points to the tackle box, and Dave goes to retrieve a new line from it.

"And you, Bella, I wouldn't have expected you to be one to ignore a pole. Get on it, right?" He motions for her to return to her fishing rod while she bows her head in embarrassment.

"Yes Chef..." she quietly mumbles.

Shortly thereafter, my line starts tugging wildly. I try to reel it in, but it is tugging so viciously it is all I can do to keep the line from reeling further out. After a bit of a struggle, I have everyone's eyes on me. The fish still won't reel in, and I worry about snapping the line.

Suddenly, I feel a warm torso behind me.

"Here, love, let me." Ramsay's breath tickles my neck and sends shivers down my spine. He reaches for the fishing rod and I am nearly squeezed between his arms.

"Y-yes Chef," I manage to say, scooting out of the way just in the nick of time before he would have surely enveloped me.

Expertly, Chef Ramsay reels in the fish and catches it in a net.

"My my, (Y/N)! This is a delicious white sea bass. Absolutely excellent!" He beams at me.

Everyone else comes up to inspect the fish and cheers. Ramsay then takes the fish to the coolers below deck.

"Nice work, (Y/N)!" Taylor pops up next to me, startling me a bit.

"Thanks, Taylor," I respond, a bit out of breath from my close encounter with Ramsay's embrace.

If I hadn't ducked out of the way, would he have put his hands over mine? Would he have pressed his torso up against my back and helped me to reel the fish in? The thought of his body against me makes my knees feel weak. I haven't had time to process the note he'd given me, and now I'm getting flustered thinking about him. He's got me feeling all sorts of nervous. Not in a bad way, but in a way that makes my heart pound and my head light.

While I'm thinking of the note, I crumple it and throw it into the ocean when I cast my line. I can't have anyone seeing it, even if he didn't sign the paper I don't know who I'd say gave it to me if it was found.

The rest of the fishing trip went by swiftly. Red managed to pull in a fish even larger than my white sea bass with the help of Dave, who proudly showed the fish off as "Red's catch-o-the-day" (too much blushing from Red) before taking it below deck to the coolers.

As the sun makes it to about 3/4s across the sky, Ramsay pulls our fishing boat into port.

"Well done everyone, I hope you all are ready for the upcoming cleaning, gutting and filleting challenge." He mischievously grins as the boat reels onto the transport truck. Already sore from pulling in fish all day, pretty much everyone groans at the realization that the work is only halfway done.

I, on the other hand, am unable to feel anything but elation and anticipation. Ramsay's eyes pass over me once again, and I feel as if a hot poker has been driven into my chest.

This is going to be a very interesting next few weeks in Hell.


	12. Fillet Me, Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your second challenge is upon you, now each team must properly fillet a fish in order to go on the reward!

Wednesday, June 26th, 2013

Hell's Kitchen comes into view as the men finish piling the fish-filled coolers onto the deck. Pietro, Scott, and Christina stand on the front steps of the restaurant and wave at us as we approach.

When the truck pulls our boat into the parking lot, Ramsay throws the knotted rope ladder and makes his way down. Dave sees his opportunity to be useful and heads halfway down the rope ladder, then holds his hands out for the coolers to be passed downwards. Garrett and Shaun make quick work of moving them off the boat, and soon enough they are cleared from the deck.

I am one of the first to climb down the ladder once the fish is transported. Ramsay stands at the base of the ladder and helps me down, resting his hand on the small of my back for support.

Everyone who has disembarked from the boat has started to carry the coolers inside. Reluctantly, I leave Ramsay's side to help others.

" **EEEEEEEE**!!" comes a high pitched squeal from behind me. I whip my head to see Bella held in Ramsay's arms, her foot tangled in the rope ladder.

Bella's face is flushed, but she takes the moment of being held to turn her chest into his, pressing her large breasts against him. Her cat-like eyes peer at me from over his shoulder as she does so, taunting me. I feel jealousy rise in my chest like a pot boiling over.

"Clumsy sod!" Chef Ramsay chastises Bella as Dave hurriedly removes the rope from her.

As soon as the rope is gone, Ramsay lets go of Bella. She looks flustered, but the embarrassment on her face quickly shifts to something closer to lust.

"Sorry, Chef. You know how blondes are. Clumsy me!" she jokes, shrugging while she flips her bleached hair over her shoulder and bats her eyelashes at him.

"Not really, Bella," Ramsay states, "in case you haven't noticed, I am blond as well, and I haven't made a fool out of myself. Let's hope you're less ungainly in the kitchen." He stops for a moment and then adds, "if blonde is even your true hair color."

He then makes to peer at the roots of her hair, to which she shrugs away.

"Get to helping the others move the coolers you blundering twit," Gordon says as he turns away from her and back to help the last few people down the ladder.

Bella sees me standing at the base of the steps to Hell's Kitchen and gives me a predatory smile as she brushes past me, grabbing one end of a cooler Gina is working to lift. As she lifts her side, she leans towards me and hisses into my ear,

"Someday soon, Ramsay is going to appreciate my... 'assets'. I have a lot to offer him. Unlike you." The glint in her eye is vicious as she turns away from me and carries a cooler inside with Gina.

The jealousy I had felt earlier multiplies by ten and I become restless. Trying to quell my inner torment, I grab a cooler and single-handedly carry it into the kitchen. It is extremely heavy but the hatred I feel towards Bella could have empowered me to flip a car over at that moment.

As the last of the coolers are brought in, Ramsay approaches the head of the kitchen. Bella moves herself to stand in front of me as Chef begins speaking. I scoff and step further back, moving until I am next to Taylor instead. Taylor seems to have noticed how Bella has been acting towards me and gives me a knowing glance.

"Right, chefs. This will be your second challenge. We'll be cleaning, gutting and then finally filleting all the fish we caught. Right now, our sous chefs are separating out the fish. Each of you will have one fish, so don't screw it up. For this challenge, each filet must be perfect to earn a point for your team. If I notice anything at all off about it, you will not receive a point. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Chef!" all of us respond loudly.

"Excellent. Let me show you how I expect you to carry out this challenge, so no one will have the excuse of not knowing how. Come close and watch." Ramsay waves us forward.

We make our way over to where we can better see him. Taylor and I lean in from over the stoves to watch. Bella once again tries to cozy up to Chef, very nearly leaning over his shoulder to watch him work. I feel my hand involuntarily ball into a fist.

Ramsay reaches down below the countertop and pulls up a fish... my fish he'd helped me catch from earlier!

"This beautiful white sea bass shall be used for our example." Ramsay pats the side of the fish as he lays it down on a cutting board.

"Now, this will be a bit messy, so I've given each of you a bucket for your fish guts. Watch carefully."

He takes a sharp knife and presses it into the fish's flesh, "you'll want to make a clean cut. Just put the tip of the knife into the fish's vent and cut right up until you're almost right underneath the chin." He masterfully cuts the fish open.

"The next part is not difficult, but might make you a bit squeamish. As a chef, you have to be ready to handle these things. Food doesn't always come pre-packaged." He grins then reaches his hand into the cut he'd made. 

"Just pull all the little bits out. If they don't come out easily, cut them out like this." He runs a blade along the inside of the fish and then pulls out the insides.

Jokingly, he turns and holds the fish guts towards Bella, who recoils in disgust and takes multiple steps back until she's at a more respectable distance. With a laugh, he turns back to the fish and resumes teaching. My fist gradually unclenches as I enjoy her obvious discomfort.

"Now before we rinse it out, we'll need to de-scale the fish." Ramsay grabs the tail of the fish and carries it to a sink. 

"Take the back of your knife and rub it quickly against the grain of the fish's scales. Do one side, then flip it over to the other side and repeat."

The descaled fish hangs limply in his hand as he turns on the sink. "Just give it a good rinse now. Be sure to wash out the insides."

"Finally, the most important part- filleting." He takes the fish and lays it down on a cutting board.

"First, look at the gills. Slice right behind them. Feel the bone halfway through, and come down." He slides the knife skillfully under the flesh.

"Now, turn the fish around and tilt it. Put your hand over the top of the fish and use your clean knife to slice down along the backbone." The sound of the knife running against the backbone is barely audible but makes a small clicking sound.

"Using your thumb, hold the meat of the fish back and use the knife to separate the meat from the bones. Be sure to feel where the bones are so we can avoid getting them in our fillet." He slices the meat cleanly off.

"Hold the head firmly, bring your knife down and just below the spine connecting to the head, and carefully take the tip of the knife from the top to the bottom. Perfectly clean, with not a single spot of meat missing." He pats the meat proudly.

"Let's trim 'round the edge of the fish, and then carefully remove any rib bones. Be sure not to cut off more meat than necessary. Now, slice from the top and remove that dorsal fin. Let's cut that tail off as well, but be sure not to nick anything. Remove the last fins." His knife dances across the fish as he speaks as if performing his instructions on its own.

"We take the two beautiful halves and lay them down on your cutting board. Think about cutting evenly sized portions from your fish. Generally, you should get five fillets from a single side of fish." The knife bobs up and down on the fish, moving effortlessly.

"Voila!" he steps back from the now perfectly filleted fish. Everyone leans in close, nodding and muttering.

"I hope you all paid attention because your challenge begins..." he takes a deep breath and pauses for a moment, _"now!"_

All of us rush back to our stations and grab our fish. After donning my pair of knife-resistant gloves, I follow his directions exactly, moving a bit slower than some of the others to be sure I don't accidentally miss a bone. While halfway into cutting the second half of my fish off from the bone, I hear a loud "Fuck!"

Turning towards the sound, I see one of the red team members, Cindy, holding her thumb.

"What is it, Cindy? Are you alright?" A concerned Ramsay approaches her.

"Ugh, God, I don't know Chef. I think I need to see a medic. I forgot to put my gloves on. I was tryin' to go too fast." Cindy holds her thumb with her other hand, blood seeping from between her fingers.

"Right you are, medic!" Ramsay shouts, leading Cindy into the back of the kitchens.

The rest of us look worriedly after her but eventually proceed with our challenge. Chef Ramsay returns a few minutes later and resumes his post at the head of the kitchen.

One by one, each of us complete our fish fillets.

Once Ramsay sees the last of us complete our challenge, he claps. "Excellent work everyone. I was going to have one of the red team step away to not have their fillets judged and make the teams even, but it seems Cindy will fill that slot. Each of you will be graded out of ten, one point per fillet."

Taylor and Pietro face off first, with Taylor getting 8/10 and Pietro garnering 9/10.

Up next, both Garrett and Gail get perfect tens.

Bella and Dylan step up and both are judged 7/10.

Abel and l bring up our fillets for judgment. Ramsay inspects my fish first, and I manage to get a 9/10. 

"Close, but you have a nick in this one fillet. Be careful, filleting requires a steady hand," he reminds me, his eyes soft. Abel scores a perfect ten, much to my chagrin.

Jay and Red bring up their dishes, and Jay scores an abysmal 4/10.

"Jay, were you sleeping while making these?" Ramsay's voice booms angrily, using the end of his knife to indicate a full half of the rib cage lodged in the poorly cut fillets of fish. "If I attempted to eat this it'd be closer to eating shrapnel than fine dining!"

Jay hangs his head as he walks back into line. Red pulls just ahead with a 6/10, which ties our teams.

Kalyani and Shaun score an 8/10 each, still leaving us at a tie.

Last up are Gina and Dave. Gina looks nervous as she carries her plate up, while Dave looks completely confident. Fortunately for us, Dave's confidence is misplaced, as Gina scores a perfect 10/10 while Dave scores only 7/10, which makes the red team the winners by a mere 3 points!

The red team collectively lets out their held breath and cheers. The blue team looks miserable.

"Excellent work, ladies! I have the most amazing treat for you in store." He makes eye contact with me, and I can sense there's something meaningful behind his look.

"You'll be going with me to a very special kind of dining event, Dining in the Dark!" He excitedly rubs his hands together before continuing, "Unfortunately, Cindy had to be taken to the hospital for stitches, so she will not be joining us tonight."

"Now for the blue team, you all will be cleaning up this awful stinking fish mess, and scrubbing down every inch of the kitchen. After that, you will be ironing out tablecloths and cleaning the dining area for tomorrow's dinner service. You'll also be polishing all of the glassware until it is absolutely spotless."

The blue team stands around grumbling.

Ramsay motions his arm towards the kitchen, "Well? Get to it, men, you'll want to hurry so you can get to bed at a decent time. As for the ladies, please get dressed in something comfortable and come meet your limo at the entrance in ten minutes." He smiles at us all, then waves us to our rooms.

The men watch us with remorse as we cheerfully make our way past them. A chant of "let's go red team!" starts up, and we all get behind it, cheering and dancing our way up to the dorms.


	13. (*)What we did in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your reward is given to you, but it isn't what you were expecting.

Wednesday, June 26th, 2013

The red team hurriedly rushes into the dorms and open their drawers to pull out whatever nice clothes they'd brought with them. I fling open my drawer to find a neatly folded black dress that was definitely not there previously. There is a small card tucked into the velvet belt of the dress. I sneakily pick it up and lay the dress in my lap, with the card between the folds of the silky fabric.

"If you've won today's challenge, please consider wearing this tonight. I used the measurements from your jacket sizing to pick it out for you. If your team has lost, it's still your gift to keep."

I feel a flutter of butterflies in my chest as I hide the card then lift the dress in front of me. It is stunning, made of silk and tied with a belt of velvet in the middle. The velvet belt came to a soft and charming bow in the back, while one side of the dress split in an alluring but elegant fashion to expose just a little leg. I'd never owned anything nearly this beautiful before. A few of my teammates notice the dress and come over to check it out. Gina's eyes bug out of her head,

"Oh my God, (Y/N), you didn't tell me you had access to high-end fashion designers!" she shouts.

Confusedly I look at the label. 'Temperly', it read. Gina squeals even higher.

"Temperly! That's a top British fashion label since like, 2000! I am so jealous!" She touches the dress and swoons.

Gordon must have spent a pretty penny to buy this dress for me and have it delivered so quickly. I try to stifle my blushing as I nod to Gina then take the dress into the bathroom to change.

I emerge just a few minutes later, looking more dazzling than I thought I ever would in my life. The red team are all dressed up for the occasion, but I surely steal the show with this outfit. I consider for a moment how silly it is that Gordon had me dressing so nice just to go to a restaurant where nothing could be seen, but who am I to complain?

We make our way down to the entrance of Hell's Kitchen, and then to the front of the limo. Gordon opens the door for us and helps us each inside. He looks strikingly handsome with a fine fitted black dress shirt and matching pants. When it is my turn to enter the limo, his eyes trail up and down my body.

"You look absolutely magnificent, love," he declares.

"T-thank you, Chef," I mutter as I try to hide my flushed face as I enter the limo, using his hand for balance.

Unfortunately, I am not seated next to Ramsay. Even more, unfortunately, Bella has found a way to scoot as close to him as possible. She is wearing a bright blue, short, strapless dress. And I am fairly certain she had foregone wearing a bra.

I try not to let it bother me, after all, he hadn't bought her a dress.

Dining in the Dark is only about 20 minutes away. Gina, who is on one side of me, keeps touching my dress and holding part of the fabric between her fingers. I know it probably excites her very much as she seems very fashion conscious, so I don't make a fuss about it.

Taylor, who is sitting across from me wearing a simple yellow sundress, pipes up to compliment Red's dress. Red is wearing a pretty pink and yellow polka dot dress that makes her look like she walked straight out of the '50s. Taylor's praise causes her to try to hide her face behind her palms as she squeaks out a "thank you!"

When we arrive, Ramsay exits the limo first then helps us out. He leads the way into the restaurant lobby and tells the host that the Hell's Kitchen competition winners have arrived.

The host nods graciously, then leads us to a door. He instructs us to each hold the shoulder of the person in front of us so that we won't stumble into each other. I take hold of Gina's shoulder, and I feel Kalyani's long and nimble fingers press softly into mine.

We enter the pitch black room. The host's voice comes from the front of the line. "Please turn to face left, then reach your hand out and grab your chair."

Following as we are instructed, we all scoot our chairs out and take our seats. Ramsay's voice sounds from somewhere to my right.

"This sort of experience is critical for an upcoming challenge, the taste testing challenge. See if you can decipher what is in each plate. It's just for fun now, but it could earn you a challenge win later," he quips.

With that in mind, the appetizers come out quickly. I try to savor the flavor, and twirl the textures around on my tongue. After a while, Ramsay asks us if anyone can name what was in what we'd just eaten.

"Was it artichoke and... trout, Chef?" comes Gail's voice from my left.

"Close, you were right about one. It was a filo pastry shell with artichoke cream and smoked salmon. Nice guess, Gail," Ramsay praises.

After a few more small appetizers and quizzes from the Chef, that familiar feeling of needing to use the restroom starts to bother me. I'm not really sure where to go, so I decide to bite the bullet-

"Chef, do you know where the restrooms are?" I ask Ramsay.

"Of course, I'll take you," he responds as I hear his chair scoot backward.

"Come with me, darling."

His hand touches my shoulder and I turn to leave my chair. Ramsay takes my hand and leads me silently to the restrooms. Once we reach the bathrooms, he releases me.

"Just head down that dark hallway a bit and turn to the right, you should see a light indicating the women's restroom. I'll wait for you to return," he says.

I quickly but carefully make my way down to the restroom and return as fast as I can to him.

"Ramsay?" I say as I re-enter the dark hallway.

Swiftly, a hand covers my mouth!

Shocked, I consider screaming when I feel hot breath tingle my ear,

"Keep quiet," he whispers.

I feel his fingers uncover my mouth.

"May I?"

I nod, my breath catching in my throat.

His fingers trail past my lips, down to my neck, to my shoulders and finally, his hand moves to cup one of my breasts. Goosebumps raise on my skin anywhere he touches me.

Stifling a gasp, I feel him lead me to the wall closest to us. He pushes me up against it with my back to him, squeezing and massaging my breast in his hand while his other hand slides down from my waist to my thigh, right at the slit in the dress. His fingers tease my bare skin lightly, before he pushes himself up against my back, his hand gripping my bare thigh possessively. I feel a hard erection rest between us, held back only by the thin fabric of his and my outfits.

He lets out a low grunt as he grinds his length against me, I damn the dress for keeping us apart. Sparks light up my body as I struggle to maintain balance against the wall when Ramsay pushes into me even harder. I have never felt so out of breath, elated or nervous before. He buries his face into my shoulder and I feel his soft hair tickle my cheek with each thrust. The sound of his steady yet quiet breathing entrances me as I follow his lead.

The lust is overwhelming. I can't count how many times I have to choke down my sounds of pleasure. He doesn't seem to have the same issue, as he continues silently and passionately holding me against himself. The crisp and masculine smell of his cologne washes over me. I take a moment to try to cement the intoxicating scent to memory. The sound of our clothing rustling is all that can be heard, and even then it is soft enough that I don't think it will matter if someone were to happen upon u-

_Click click click_

The sound of heels approach us in the hallway! _  
_

Though we are in pitch darkness, Ramsay pulls away from me. I can hear him straightening his clothes.

"Come on then, (Y/N), you sure took a while in there and the others must be wondering where we are. Hurry on!" I feel his fingers gently touch me in the dark. Quickly straightening my dress with one hand, I reach out and take hold of his offered hand. He twines his fingers with mine and squeezes reassuringly.

We both sweep past the unknown intruder on our secret foray and back to the table. Reluctantly, I release Ramsay's hand and return to my seat. The wetness of my excitement is very apparent as I sit down, and I shift uncomfortably... both because of the soaked panties and because I am still so turned on that staying still is an impossibility.

"Hello ladies, (Y/N) had a bit of trouble with her beautiful dress but we've returned!" Ramsay's voice is still slightly husky, but no one else catches on.

Taylor's voice pipes up, "poor Gail had to find the restroom all by herself!"

Dammit, Gail, she should have just held it! I can't be sure when the next opportunity I'd have to spend with Ramsay would be, but I am already craving more. I've never felt so controlled before. It is as if Ramsay knows every button to push to make me his obedient little girl. I would've done anything he wanted me to do with great pleasure.

There was only dessert left in our Dining in the Dark meal experience, Ramsay and I had missed the main course (or rather, made each other our main course). That didn't matter in the slightest, the sweetness of the dessert was the perfect cherry on top of my incredibly salacious day.


	14. Reminiscing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our MC has a lot to think about...

Wednesday, June 26th, 2013

The limo ride home is difficult for both of us, it seems. Once again, I am seated a ways away from Ramsay, but the tension we each feel electrifies the air between us. He is still talking with everyone else, being his regular limelight-loving self, but I can feel him watching me whenever he has the chance to look. I, on the other hand, have a bit more of an excuse to be watching him like I am.

Gina nudges my arm from beside me,

"You know, if you have trouble removing the dress tonight, I can help you."

The dress is definitely no issue for me to take on and off, but I consider what Ramsay had told the other girls when we'd arrived back at the table.

"Yes, alright, please just help me pull the zipper and I'll do the rest when we get to the dorms." I placate Gina, who likely is just looking for an excuse to get to spend more time with the dress.

Gina smiles at me and then turns back to watching Ramsay.

"This is just the beginning, everyone. Someday when you make it big as a chef, you'll be spending every day trying out new and delicious foods," he pauses, "having experience with many different types of food can only ever help you in a kitchen environment. One thing I have worked for during my career as a chef is to never be unsure of what I can do with an ingredient. Every chef should be prepared to make something extraordinary from what is available to them. Be thinking of that."

Just as he finishes speaking, the limo pulls into the parking lot.

"Welcome back to Hell, ladies!" Ramsay says as he opens the limo door and helps each of us out once more.

After we are all helped from the limo, Chef Ramsay once again addresses us.

"Be sure to rest up for tomorrow as you will have a long day of prep and eventual service to handle at the end of the day. Don't be afraid to help each other and please oh please make my job easier. I'll be having a rough enough time trying to mold the blue team into something more resembling chefs as opposed to a stable of donkeys." He laughs along with the red team.

We all walk into Hell's Kitchen once more. Ramsay walks with us to the steps leading up to the dorms.

"Goodnight, ladies," he says as we filter past him. I am not last in line, so I don't really get a chance to linger behind with Ramsay as I had been hoping. Not wanting to draw attention, I merely say "goodnight" to him as I walk past, straining to not be too suspicious.

"Sleep well, (Y/N)," he says softly as we pass each other. I can feel him looking at me but I know if I look back I will betray too much emotion in my eyes. With Bella in front of me and Red behind, I don't think it is safe to do, so I keep my eyes on Bella's blonde head bobbing up the stairs instead and respond,

"You too, Chef."

  
Most of the women are ready to sleep by the time we make it back. The men are already in bed it seems. Only Abel is awake, sitting at the long wooden table and still reading his recipe book. Curious, I make my way over.

"Hey Abel, why aren't you sleeping?" I ask.

Abel's clear blue eyes flick up from the page to meet mine.

"Oh, I don't really need to sleep as long as," he pauses, then emphasizes, " _most_ people."

His eyes steadily lock onto mine, appraising me with a scrutinizing gaze.

"Really? That will be really useful here when you don't know what sort of nonsense will wake you up next. Clowns? Trained attack dogs?" I smile, feeling as if I am under a microscope.

Abel returns the smile but says nothing. His fingers play with the corner of the recipe book as if itching to turn the page.

"Sorry if I was interrupting your study. I'm headed to bed now." I say sheepishly.

"No bother at all, (Y/N). I hope you had fun tonight." His eyes break from mine finally as he takes in the rest of my outfit. "You look great," he adds casually.

"Thank you," I say as I feel a smile creep onto my face on my way to the bedroom.

The lights are off, but I can see Gina sitting cross-legged on her bed. She wordlessly motions for me to turn around. I do so, and she pulls the zipper for me. Graciously, I curtsy. She giggles in response, then nods towards the closet, one of the few places you can get changed without a camera watching.

After removing my dress I fold it carefully and place it back in my drawer. I wear a shirt and shorts to bed just in case we are called to duty in the middle of the night- a common occurrence in previous seasons of Hell's Kitchen.

As I lay in bed, slowly creeping thoughts of what Ramsay and I got up to seep into my mind.

Aside from the inevitable steaminess of my memories, I can't help but feel guilty. Taylor had reminded me that he was married... I have always staunchly despised cheaters. Swore that I will never stoop to their level. I never understood why you wouldn't just leave your partner if you weren't satisfied. Now here I am, stealing sensual moments with another woman's man. My stomach turns. At least we hadn't gone _too_ far... we hadn't even kissed...

Then I remember how Gordon had asked me if I was single. Why would a cheater bother with if I was taken or not? It doesn't really make sense that he'd care for the emotions of some unknown potential man over how his wife of fifteen years would feel.

As confusing as everything is, I still can't help the deep part of my body that is responding to everything Gordon ever asks of me. Each time I listen to him, each time I follow his direction and get his praise it feels unbelievably wonderful.

Confusing thoughts of lust and uncertainty circle in my head wildly until I become dizzy enough to fall asleep.


	15. Red Alert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taylor and you manage to have a private conversation. Something goes wrong during prep.

Thursday, June 27th, 2013

My eyelids flutter, and Taylor's bright brown eyes meet mine.

I jolt awake, sitting up in bed.

"What the hell, Taylor? You scared the shit outta me," I whisper harshly. She is kneeling next to my bed with her face just a few inches from mine. Her curly brown hair is wild and unkempt. I look around the room and see that everyone else is still asleep. The analog clock beside me reads 5:23 am.

She looks bashful for a moment, before sliding me a notepad.

On it, she'd written-

_Did you and Ramsay do anything when he took you to the bathroom yesterday?_

I quickly hold the notepad at an angle where the cameras won't be able to pick it up.

Taylor slides a pen over the top of the notepad and looks at me eagerly.

I pause for a moment before writing out my response-

_Sort of..._

Sliding the notepad back to her, she takes the pen and scribbles out-

_OMG, I knew it. You're so naughty! I knew he liked you. What are you going to do now?_

Thinking for a moment, I then respond-

_I honestly have no idea. I can't even ask what he meant by... what happened. It's maddening. All these cameras and microphones everywhere are making getting any actual info on wtf is going on between us a near impossibility._

Taylor reads over the response and nods before writing-

_Well, I'll cover for you girl. You need anything you just let me know. I'll try to help the best I can._

I draw a heart on the page in response. She smiles at me before tearing the paper off the page and leaving for the restroom. Shortly thereafter, I hear the toilet flush. Thank goodness she isn't taking any chances on anyone coming across our conversation.

When she returns, she smiles at me then slides back in her bed. I return the smile, then roll over in bed and try to catch some shut eye before the morning prep work.

  
The morning comes too soon, unfortunately, as the women in the dorm start rousing at about 6:40 am. I am sitting on the edge of my bed brushing my hair when I hear a voice from the common area.

"Morning everyone!" the muffled voice shouts.

Quickly hopping off the edge of the bed, I go through the door to the main room and see Sous Chef Christina standing there with her arms crossed and a big smile on her face. Behind her, I can see Cindy standing silently, not really sharing Christina's enthusiasm.

"You have no idea how satisfying it is for me to be the one to wake all of you up this time. Your fellow chef Cindy has returned from the hospital and getting her stitches done. She'll be joining us all for prep and service today. We have a big day ahead of us, so let's get moving!" Christina happily skips backward before turning on her heel and exiting the dorms, leaving Cindy standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

I scan the room for Taylor and see her snacking on some cereal before prep. I scoot out a chair next to her and sit down, pouring out my own bowl.

"Hurry now, (Y/N), we're already almost late!" Taylor says with a mouthful of cereal as she hauls yet another enormous bite into her mouth.

Following suit, I shovel the cereal into my mouth as fast as I can.

Taylor and I manage to make it down to the kitchen just as the last of the blue team is lining up.

Gordon Ramsay stands at the head of the kitchen looking eager. He bounces on his toes as he stands in front of us, hands clasped in front of him.

"Good morning, everyone!" he says cheerily.

"Good morning, Chef!" we shout back. If we are sleepy, at least our voices don't betray that.

"Bright eyed and bushy tailed I see!" Ramsay bounces on his toes again, his excitement is contagious. "We'll be needing quite a lot of prep work done today. Do whatever your sous chefs ask of you and help each other! Be sure to get it all done before dinner service at 6 tonight, right?" He scans the lineup of chefs.

"Yes, Chef!" we respond heartily.

"Excellent, I'll be in my office if anyone needs me. Go on then!" He claps his hands then turns around and takes the stairs to his office two at a time.

  
Prep work is grueling as usual, but Christina is an expert and whenever anyone struggles, she is right behind their shoulder to explain how to better accomplish their task. She never snaps at anyone (at least during prep) and it really helps everyone be calm.

Scott on the other hand, though just as helpful as Christina, would let the men know if someone had screwed up... loudly. Often, the red team would silently snicker about whatever insult Scott had hit the boys with. Scott's demeanor definitely got the job done, however, as the blue team finishes prep before us.

But that may have also been because Red just can't seem to chop the onions thin enough. There is a mountain of discarded onions by her cutting board. Her face is flushed and there are tears pricking her eyes- though that could have easily just been a side effect of chopping onions.

Christina makes her way to Red's side to check in on her.

"Hey, Mary, are you OK?" she asks worriedly to the petite chef.

"Y-Yeah. I'm... OK..." Red sniffles and avoids eye contact, her hands shaking as she preps yet another onion for cutting. Christina reaches out and stops her from continuing by holding the end of the knife, her hand over Red's. She looks concerned.

"Hon, are you alright for real? It's fine if you need to take a break. We have almost an hour before dinner service. I'll come to get you before Chef Ramsay gets here," she offers.

Red bows her head and turns towards Christina, nodding meekly. She then quietly moves past her and goes up to the dorm.

Kalyani quickly takes up Red's post and finishes chopping the onions expertly.

Dinner service looms ever closer on the horizon.

I look nervously at the blue kitchen. The boys are milling about chatting with each other, re-checking stations and discussing the menu with Scott. Our team seems more worried about gossiping.

"Do you think she broke down?" asks Bella to Cindy, obviously trying to have everyone hear her.

"About what? Dinner service hasn't even started. And I didn't see HER slicing her thumb in half!" Cindy retorts, motioning to her bandaged thumb. Bella nods, _mm-hmming_ loudly.

Those two are nearly unbearable to have around. It pains me even further that if Red doesn't return, she'll be the one headed home instead of either of the drama queens.

_Please come back, Red!_


	16. The Second Dinner Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second dinner service of season 11 has arrived, let's see how we manage, shall we?

Thursday, June 27th, 2013

I notice Christina head towards the dorms, and I knew that Ramsay will be making his entrance soon. I check around the stations one last time to be sure everything looks as ready as it can be. Once I finish checking, I line up next to the stoves with the rest of the red team to await Chef Ramsay.

A few moments later, Christina returns with Red in tow. Red looks calmer now, but she still is embarrassed by all of the eyes on her. She quickly make her way to the chef lineup and stands at the back.

Chef Ramsay emerges from his office and comes to the head of the kitchen.

"I hope you all are ready to perform well. After all, your fish is a big part of the menu tonight. Tonight is seafood night, so those of you that would be on meat station will instead be a second fish station, understood?"

"Yes, Chef!" we shout.

"Good, excellent. Well, let's get started then shall we?" he turns his back to us and motions for the maitre d'.

"Jean-Philippe, please open Hell's Kitchen for seafood night."

Jean-Philippe nods and heads towards the entrance of Hell's Kitchen.

The seats fill up once more, giving us yet another full house to feed.

I am on appetizers tonight with Kalyani. Our two fish stations are being handled by Gail, Bella, Cindy, and Taylor. Red and Gina are heading up the garnish station.

Ramsay approaches our kitchen's head,

"Here we go, guys! First ticket in, appetizers. Two risotto, one scallop," his assertive voice echoes through the kitchen.

"Yes, Chef!" we respond, and immediately begin working on the ticket.

Being appetizers, the entire flow of the kitchen rests on Kalyani and I's shoulders. We each take to making risotto. As the risottos are nearly done cooking, I finish up the scallops, leaving my risotto next to Kalyani's.

Right as I finish searing the scallops perfectly, I hear Ramsay's exasperated voice.

"Oh come **ON** ," he shouts, "these risottos are two completely different colors, Kalyani! I can't serve that at the same table! What were you thinking?"

I was too concentrated on getting the scallops exactly right that I didn't see Kalyani step away with the risottos! Cursing under my breath, I look up and lock eyes with Chef Ramsay, who is giving me a skeptical look.

"I would have thought you two could work better together than that. I expected much more." He not-so-delicately drops the pans down on the metal table at the head of the kitchen. Kalyani stands dumbfounded, still at the pass.

"Well, don't stand there like a buffoon. Combine the fucking things before they get cold! Honestly, good God..." Ramsay shakes his head, pressing his thumb and index finger into his temples.

Kalyani springs to life and immediately mixes the risottos. I bring up my scallops at the same time and set them next to Chef. He quickly makes eye contact with me as I set them down. There is an obvious incredulous air about him, but I see some hope regained as he touches the scallops and determines them good enough for plating.

After sending off the first appetizers, Ramsay calls out the next order.

"How long?" he asks, directing the question to our station.

"About eight minutes, Chef!" I shout back.

He nods then heads towards the boys' side.

  
"What are you fucking doing??" he shouts from the blue kitchen, then disappears behind the wall dividing the kitchens, likely to scold whoever has messed up.

A minute or so later, he returns to the front holding a full plate of scallops.

"Fucking insane. It hasn't even been thirty minutes, yet the blue kitchen has already run through half their scallops _ON THE FIRST ORDER_ ," he enunciates, slamming the full plate onto the table, sending scallops flying. He then picks up a rubbery scallop and lobs it at someone, I can't see who.

"You thought you could hide this fucking shitfest from me, yeah?" he continues shouting, "You fuck. Get the fuck out of my kitchen. Slimy _LIAR_!" his whole body shakes as he says this, the veins in the side of his neck bulging as if they wish they could pop out and beat whoever had screwed up.

"You, Dave and Jay, hop off that second fish station and finish up the fucking appetizers. Well, whichever of the appetizers we even still have available TO be made. Unbelievable..." Ramsay shakes his head and sighs exasperatedly.

When he heads back to our kitchen, thankfully we are prepared. We manage to get out the rest of the appetizers with no further missteps. Now, our kitchen is tasked with completing entrees.

After a few minutes of waiting for the first order of fish, Ramsay comes back over to the red kitchen and calls out,

"are you all done with your fish yet? Please, I can't take much more." He pleads with us.

"Yes, Chef!" the ladies from the fish stations call out, then Bella and Taylor bring up their trays.

"Behind you, Chef," Taylor says as she places down her tray. Bella follows suit and lays her tray down.

Ramsay quickly grabs the two trays and stops Bella and Taylor on their way back to their stations.

"Is this a fucking joke to everyone?" he spits out, his face turning red with anger.

"I asked for two white sea bass and one mackerel. Look what you've given me." He tilts the trays forward, six prepared fish fillets slide down the pan until they are at the edge.

"Six fucking fish fillets. For one table. You four are literally right across from each other and can't communicate over who's making what fish. It isn't fucking rocket science you inept simpletons!" The anger in his eyes inflames.

"I swear to fucking God I'm about to give up on both teams right now..." he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Neither team has managed to get more than one entree out to the hungry customers. Over an hour and thirty minutes have passed.

"If there is a SINGLE screw up from this point on, I promise, I will shut down both fucking kitchens. I don't even care anymore. Obviously, you all don't care, so why should I?" He throws up his hands in the air and juts his head forward, challenging us.

"Yes Chef!" we call out, our nerves wracking.

The second table's fish are prepared, and thankfully the two fish stations had coordinated themselves. Ramsay meticulously scans the fish for any defect...

"Service, please." his voice calls calmly from the front.

It feels like everyone in the red kitchen collectively relaxes at that moment, maybe we can still salvage what is left of dinner.

Or, maybe not.

"I'm done. I'm fucking done," comes Ramsay's voice from the front of the blue kitchen. The boys look confusedly at each other.

"Of the four of you on fish, you'd think at least one could check the fish before you send it up here. Raw. Fucking. Mackerel."

Ramsay shakes his head, then slams a fist down into the raw fish, sending scraps of it flying. He then turns and addressed both kitchens,

"Shut it down. Shut it all down. All of you. No one wins this service. Both teams, decide on two fucks that should get the hell out of Hell's Kitchen, and now all of you get the hell out of MY sight."

The venom in his words stings me, and my heart aches. Red can't take it and starts sobbing silently.

With our spirit broken, we make our way up to the dorms.

This isn't going to be pretty.


	17. Deliberation and Elimination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both teams must nominate chefs to leave Hell's Kitchen. Who will it be?

Thursday, June 27th, 2013

The girls all file in and sit down in the common room area. A new kind of nervous energy courses through the group.

Gina is the first to break the silence,

"Well, we know what Chef will do if we don't put up the people he thinks deserve to be up there. We have to be sure we choose right, even if it hurts."

Gail stands up from one of the lounge chairs.

"Our issues were with the appetizers and the fish station. That's Kalyani, myself, Bella, Cindy, Taylor and (Y/N). Now let's think on the weakest chefs out of that group."

Bella huffs.

"just because we brought up the wrong number of fish doesn't mean any of us deserve to be upped. The only real issue we had was the risottos. I am voting for (Y/N) and Kalyani."

Cindy then adds,

"Yeah, but I don't think (Y/N) is the weakest, honestly. She was cooking scallops while Kalyani rushed ahead of her," she taps her foot on the ground then continues, "my votes are for Kalyani and Taylor. Kalyani because she should have waited for (Y/N) and Taylor because I never once heard her say anything the entire kitchen service."

I am honestly surprised that Cindy is standing up for me, then I remember how she had said she would repay me after I'd saved her on scallops. Even though Cindy is annoying and whiny, she does stick to her word.

Kalyani crosses her arms.

"I'm certainly not the weakest chef. We should drop Mary."

Red gasps, her eyes shifting to Kalyani. She doesn't seem like she expected that at all, especially considering she didn't even get a chance to make anything today.

Kalyani went on to explain her reasoning,

"Mary obviously is struggling. We all saw her at prep today. She just got lucky that she wasn't on one of the early stations, or she would have crashed and burned. I think she's the weakest chef, honestly. No offense, Mary, but I don't think you were cut out for Hell's Kitchen."

Red's face goes... well, red. However this time it isn't from embarrassment, it is from anger.

"You all have no idea what I had to go through to be here." Her small hands ball into fists, "My fiance and I had a huge fight just before I left for Hell's Kitchen! He told me he didn't want me on the screens for everyone to look at. I tried to explain that this show isn't about showing off looks, it's about cooking, which is my dream. He just thought I was fishing for attention, but I'm not."

She pauses for breath between her outburst, her fists shaking with pent up rage,

"I have more passion than half of you combined! I didn't even get to cook today, so don't you dare try to up me! I've been struggling emotionally for a while. I don't even know if my fiance will still want to be with me, especially after how Garrett put his arm around me in the limo, but I'm still here! Chef Ramsay offered me the door and I didn't take it! I deserve to be here!" Her dedication is apparent as she finally cools off and takes her seat on the couch again, her arms folded protectively over her chest while rage tears prick at her eyes.

Everyone is silent for a moment before I decide to say something,

"in my opinion, none of us really deserve to be up there, but something tells me the blue kitchen fucked up even worse than we did. So I don't think that anyone we up will be eliminated this time. Chef Ramsay will likely be gunning for whoever wasted a full pile of scallops. We just need to put two people up. I vote for..." I paused, thinking, "Kalyani and..." the name 'Taylor' paused on my lips. I couldn't just up my closest friend. Besides, if her issue was talking then she could fix that easily. Sighing, I continue,

"Gail. Gail, being that you are obviously so assertive, I can't believe that you'd let the fish stations fail as they did. I'm only voting you because I expected more out of you."

She shoots me a malicious look,

"Alright then, I'm voting for (Y/N) and Kalyani. Besides, as you said, you're likely safe anyways." she shrugs.

Kalyani pipes up with her vote,

"I'm voting for (Y/N) and Mary. Sorry, Mary, I do appreciate your speech, but I still think you should go."

Gina sighs before voting,

"Kalyani and Taylor. Sorry girls, I love you both, but we need more discussion in the kitchen or we're all going to fail and you two are not cutting it."

Taylor squints before sighing,

"I really don't like this. I'm voting up Kalyani.... and Gail. For the reasons (Y/N) stated. I hope we're all still friends."

Last to vote is Red. She had calmed down considerably after not being brought up more than once and speaks up,

"I'm voting for Kalyani and Taylor, both because they didn't speak as often as they should have."

Gina mutters,

"You know that ties (Y/N) and Taylor. We have to pick only two. Who's going up?"

I glance at Taylor, who is looking worriedly at me.

"It's fine guys. I'll go up," I find myself saying almost against my will. I can't stand to have Taylor go in my place, and I know that we are likely safe... but the fact that I self-nominated to the stand on only our second dinner service burns in my conscience. I know of the previous winners of Hell's Kitchen, they were hardly ever on the stand. This will be a strike against me that I will have to work tirelessly to wipe away.

The phone rings. Gail gets up and answers. After a short while, she responds,

"yes, Chef," and hangs up the phone.

"Come on guys, all of us need to go down. The boys as well."

We solemnly walk down the stairs and line up for the elimination process. The men follow shortly after, joining us on the lineup.

Chef Ramsay stands in front of us, shaking his head.

"I am bitterly, bitterly disappointed. In all of you. Red team," his eyes scans us, "I asked you during the last elimination to take a stand, speak to each other and make my job just a bit easier. I couldn't have gotten a service further from what I'd been asking for."

We hang our heads as he continues,

"You blue team fucks are really starting to piss me off, you know that right? Trying to hide a full plate of wasted scallops in the cupboard! You're like children who broke a vase and tried to pretend there never was one in the first place! Absolutely unbelievable."

Ramsay stands there with his hands on his hips for a moment, before he blows the breath he was holding out as he watches us all.

"I hope everyone managed to come to a consensus. Gail, please, who is your first nominee and why?" he sighs, his blue eyes clouded over and bleak as if to foretell an incoming storm.

"Chef, our first nominee is Kalyani. She was too quick to the pass with her risottos and didn't communicate properly with her teammates," Gail responds.

"Right, OK. The second nominee?" he asks.

"Chef, our second nominee is..." Gail pauses uncertainly, "(Y/N), Chef."

"Really? Why?" Ramsay probes, his head cocked to the side.

"She was on the station with Kalyani and both of them should have been better coordinated. We really struggled from lack of communication, Chef." Gail stiffens up and clasps her hands behind her back.

Ramsay sighs again as the two of us step forward.

"You know, you are right. Your two nominees were lacking in communication. But I can think of four others that also struggled with the same issue. Gail, Taylor, Cindy, and Bella, get your sorry asses up here," Ramsay says as he jabs his finger at the floor in front of him.

Soon enough more than half of the red team is standing on the chopping block. I quickly glance at the women around me. Bella is looking haughty, Cindy looks like she is about to burst with the desire to defend herself, Taylor is looking at her feet and Gail is standing stiffly, staring straight ahead.

"Now, the blue team. Jay. Who is your first nominee and why?" Ramsay asks, popping up on his toes for a moment before settling back down.

"Uh, Chef... Our first nominee is Dylan. Our reasons are obvious. He tried to hide his failed scallops from you and denied it when you confronted him."

"Alright Jay, your second nominee and why?" Ramsay inquires.

"Our last nominee is Garrett, Chef. He doesn't listen to instruction well and thinks whatever he has in mind is more important than listening to the team," Jay concludes.

"Fine then. Step forward you two." Chef Ramsay waits for them to approach, "Now, this service was the worst service so far. I sincerely hope I will not have to deal with anything close to this in the future. I might have a fucking stroke if you all keep dithering about like completely mute dimwits in the kitchen."

The lineup of up-for-elimination chefs mumble apologies.

"Honestly, I've half a mind to eliminate all of the red team standing in front of me right now. You all said you'd speak to one another and I heard next to nothing coming from your side of the kitchen."

His gaze locks onto mine and holds there for a moment. "When I ask you for something and you agree, you do not disappoint me."

I can feel a deeper meaning in his words and respond by nodding subtly.

"But I think today's elimination is obvious. Truthfully, they don't even deserve to make a plea for themselves." Gordon's burning look moves off of me and onto Dylan.

"Dylan, give me your jacket and get the fuck out of here. I've no space for liars in 'Gordon Ramsay's London Cuisine'," Ramsay barks, swiftly pointing his thumb over his shoulder towards the exit.

Dylan looks broken, his shoulders slump as he steps forward, removing his jacket.

"Hopefully you learn from this and own up to your mistakes. I might have given you a chance if you had. Now, get out," Ramsay snarls.

The distraught chef tears up as he exits the building, a quiet "thank you for the opportunity, Chef," is all that he says before the doors close behind him.

Ramsay turns to the rest of us.

"This is your wake up call, got it?"

"Yes, Chef!" we shout.

"Good. I need to hear more communication. Your problems would be solved if you just spoke to one another. I'm going to need each of you to promise to communicate better. Trust me, breaking a promise to me is not something you want to do," he asserts.

"I promise, Chef!" we exclaim.

"Don't break that promise, or you will be very, very sorry," he urges. "Now go get some rest before tomorrow. Piss off."

Gordon turns his back to us and walks back to his office, closing the door behind him.


	18. Communication Relay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an abysmal service and terrible communication across the board, Chef Ramsay has an idea.

Friday, June 28th, 2013

"Come on! Hurry up! Wake up everyone!" shouts the familiar voice of Christina from the common area of the dorms.

Groaning emits from about half the beds around me. The red team did not take well to having 2/3rds of its members up on the execution block just last night. The strain of the emotional toll it took on us is clearly evident in the fact that it takes us quite some time to exit the bedrooms.

"Chef Ramsay has a challenge prepared for you all, you don't want to keep him waiting! Get dressed fast and come on down," Christina declares.

After donning our chef jackets, we scurry down the stairs and line up in front of the kitchens. Ramsay stands at the very front, looking as lively and energetic as he always does.

"Good morning, everyone. After yesterday's complete failure at communication, I thought I'd give you all an opportunity to redeem yourself. This will also be your challenge for today. I'll just go ahead and let you know, you do not want to lose this one." He watches us carefully.

"Yes, Chef!" we collectively shout.

"Excellent. For today's challenge, you will be preparing our standard menu," he claps his hands together before raising a finger in the air and continuing, "but only one of you will be in the kitchen at a time. Each of you will have five minutes. Blue team, two of you will have to go twice. I'm going to need one rack of lamb, one risotto, one scallop, one salmon and one medium rare filet, got it?"

"Yes, Chef!" we affirm.

"Then quickly decide who will be going first on your team. You will have thirty seconds now to decide your order of chefs, and then fifteen seconds when you trade off to communicate what needs to be done next in your dishes. Keep everything organized! Ready?" he pauses for a moment before shouting, "GO!"

Red team forms a circle and deliberate on our order of chefs. We settle on Kalyani, Gail, Gina, Taylor, Bella, myself, Red and finally Cindy. With places decided, Kalyani rushes into the kitchen.

Watching Kalyani work is almost like watching a perfectly concordant ballet dance. She swiftly organizes everything, preps the meats and starts up the ovens. She was definitely the correct person to pick to go first. Hopefully, her meticulous organization will keep us all on track.

Ramsay is heading up the kitchens, watching each of the teams work. Most of the red and blue team members are lined up directly outside the kitchens, either watching their teammates silently or shouting what they think to be helpful comments.

I take this time to covertly make my way closer to Ramsay. I have no way of talking to him or getting his attention but dammit, I can't help my desire to be near him.

When I arrive at his side, his eyes flash towards me for a second, then back to the kitchens. A slow burn starts in my cheeks. The corner of his lips twitch in the ghost of a smile, but since the cameras are on and rolling, he keeps his eyes ahead and focused.

In no time, Gail, Gina, and Taylor have traded off in the kitchen. Bella is in there now, working on the risotto. She also keeps an eye on the rack of lamb that Taylor had started previously. 

"Next!" shouts Ramsay, spurring Bella away from the stove. I run into the kitchen and meet up with her.

"Alright, risotto is on, put the lamb in the oven. Don't forget to start the filet, I have the skillet warm for you already," Bella states, being cooperative for once.

"Sounds good, thanks," I respond while tying an apron around myself.

"Chat time is over, your five minutes start now," Ramsay booms over the kitchen chatter.

The first order of business is the lamb. I check the sear and once I confirm it is perfect, I put it in the oven. Next up, stirring the risotto. I took a small spoon and taste the risotto... too much wine. Turning up the heat to burn off the alcohol flavor, I then take hold of the filet mignon and put it in the preheated cast iron skillet and turn the heat to medium. The filet smells delicious as I fastidiously watch over it. When I have two minutes left I suddenly remember that my team will need to be making salmon and scallops! I turn on the stove top and set out pans for the seafood.

Before I know it, Ramsay's voice announces the end of my time.

In short order, I make my way to Red who is already getting her apron ready.

"Double check that risotto and turn down the heat if the alcohol taste is burned off. The lamb will still need to be in the oven so don't forget to tell Cindy. Turn that filet mignon as soon as you get in there. Salmon and scallops will have to be started right now too, I have the pans ready! Good luck Red." I smile at her reassuringly. Red gives me a determined nod before stepping up to the stove.

To my dismay, Bella has taken my spot at Ramsay's side and is leaning over the pass to watch Red work, kicking one foot up in the air behind her like she is expecting to be photographed for a Playboy magazine. I grumble inaudibly as I instead stand next to Taylor. Taylor is very engrossed in watching Red cook, and I can see why. The fiery girl is whipping around the kitchen like a storm, seasoning here, turning meat there, it is really a spectacle. Red and Cindy have the two hardest jobs of them all, so I am glad to see that she is not taking the job lightly.

"Time!" comes Ramsay's voice calling for the last turn of the challenge.

Red and Cindy have a quick conversation before Red pops out of the kitchen and stands next to me. She smiles up at me, her green eyes sparkling.

"I think we've got this," she giggles.

I smile back and we both turn to watch Cindy.

Cindy tests each of the meats and fish for doneness and plates them. Then I hear something I had hoped I wouldn't hear...

"Fuck!" - then the slam of a pan.

While Cindy had been plating the meats and fish, she had neglected to turn the scallops. The bottoms are terribly burned.

Taylor turns towards me, her eyes bulging.

"If the boys didn't fuck up worse than that, we're out, no matter how good our food is..." she whimpers, curling her arm through mine and holding me tightly.

Bella's mouth makes a comical "O" as she watchs our win burn away before our eyes. I might have laughed if I wasn't already feeling intense trepidation.

Cindy finishes plating what we did have to give to Ramsay. She wouldn't have enough time to cook more scallops, so all we could do was hope that the men have messed up something even more major than an entire dish.

"Done! Ladies, Gentlemen, please line up and prepare to present your dishes," Ramsay requests.

We all line up for Ramsay. I take a moment to examine the blue team. Unfortunately, none of them seem particularly worried. I glance at Cindy, she is complaining under her breath to no one in particular.

"First up, the battle of the lambs!" Ramsay claps his hands together as the lamb dishes are passed down the line to him.

Chef Ramsay starts with the blue team's dish, cutting into it cleanly and taking a bite.

"Well done. It's cooked well, seasoning is perfect and it isn't cut like a mangled Jack the Ripper corpse," he observes before trying out our dish.

"Also well done, both of these dishes are just fine. A point to both teams. Let's see those risottos now, please." Ramsay passes the lamb back and accepts the risottos from each team. He then takes a bite from the blue team's risotto.

"Excellently cooked. It looks lovely and tastes lovely as well. I'm honestly impressed, men." He nods towards the blue team, who look at each other excitedly.

"Now for the red team..." he takes a bite of our risotto.

"A little mushy, somewhat overcooked. I'm going to have to give the point to the blue team here." he shrugs, "let's see how you fare on the scallops then."

Cindy gulps as Ramsay accepts the blue team's scallops dish, still holding his hand out to the red team.

"Well? Are you going to make me wait much longer?" Gordon sighs, gesturing for us to pass him a dish by closing and reopening his hand.

"Uhhhh, Chef... I burned the scallops," Cindy stutters.

"You what?" Ramsay looks at Cindy in disbelief.

"Burned them, Chef. I didn't even bother plating them, honestly."

Gordon puts his thumbs in his pockets and leans his head backward, groaning. He stands there for a few seconds before turning to the blue team,

"Well, it appears you get the point by proxy then. I won't even bother to taste it. Gentlemen lead 3 to 1. All the red team can hope for now is a tie." He passed back the scallops before requesting the salmon dishes from each team.

He cuts into the blue team's salmon and brings a bite to his lips.

"This salmon is cooked perfectly. You've earned a point, men, and with that point, you've taken away any chance the red team had at redemption. We'll go ahead and end the competition here with the clear winners, the blue team!" Ramsay dips his head to the blue team who bounce around, bear hugging one another and cheering.

"As for the red team, honestly, I thought you all would win. I saw such good communication spring up between you all. Then it all fell apart. You're in for a real shit day." He looks down at us, his hands on his hips disapprovingly.

"First, you'll need to clean both kitchens until they are absolutely spotless. Then, remove your chef's jackets and meet me out back for the second half of your punishment. After that, you'll also need to prep both kitchens for dinner service tonight. Do I make myself clear?" Ramsay drills us like an army sergeant.

"Yes, Chef," we say, sulking.

"Well, get to it then losers." Gordon dismisses us, turning to the men, "As for the blue team, you'll be headed out with Jean-Philippe in our beautiful limo to your front row seats at the Los Angeles Lakers game! Have fun, gentlemen!"

The blue team whoops and hollers all the way up to the dorms, while the red team file into the kitchen to begin the first half of our day-long punishment.

I just hope that the second half isn't as bad as Ramsay is making it out to be.


	19. Our First Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dealing with a harsh punishment gets everyone on edge.

Friday, June 28th, 2013

Cleaning the kitchen took the red team about an hour to finish. Sous Chef Christina was watching over us as we worked, making sure we didn't miss anything. Once she determined we had made everything spotless, she dismissed us to the dorms to change out of our chef jackets while she went to get Chef Ramsay for the second part of our punishment.

As soon as we all made it to the dorms, Bella turns on Cindy, her eyes flashing with anger.

"You **FUCKED** us over Cindy!" she bellows, jabbing her finger into Cindy's chest.

Cindy puffs her chest up and shoves Bella back,

"Yeah? So fucking what bitch? It was a fucking _accident_ ," she hisses through her teeth, "don't act like you haven't screwed up too!"

"Well, when I did screw up it didn't make our entire team lose! You're such dead weight it isn't even funny anymore. I used to laugh at you for how much of a waste of space you are, but now I just feel sad when I look at you," Bella sneers, her words thick with vicious hatred.

A look of genuine hurt crosses Cindy's face before she recovers,

"at least I ain't the one throwing my pussy at anyone who gives me a lick of attention!"

Bella's sneer deepens as she responds,

"at least I can get a man or three. When was the last time a man touched you? Not including when the doctor pulled you out of your skank mom's cunt."

Unable to speak, she just sputters in a rage. Cindy erupts and flings herself at Bella, grabbing for her hair. 

Bella sidesteps Cindy and trips her, causing Cindy to fall on her face! This doesn't deter Cindy one bit, as she grabs Bella's ankle and pulls her to the ground. Cindy pulls herself onto the thrashing Bella and claws at her, pulling her chef's jacket open.

Bella yowls as she tosses and turns under Cindy, her manicured nails ripping at Cindy's jacket and face in a frenzy.

Gina has seen enough, she rushes over to the brawl and tries to separate the two combative women. She helps each to their feet after she manages to pull Cindy off of Bella. Both of the angry red team members glare at each other before Bella make another lunge for Cindy!

Thankfully, Gina grabs the back of Bella's chef jacket, restraining her just in time. Bella allows herself to be held back, shrugging free of Gina's grip and finally calming down enough to where she doesn't personify a boiling kettle.

"You're out next, Cindy. You won't fuck us over any harder than you already have. I'll have you eliminated if it's the last thing I do," Bella threatens, before turning towards the bedrooms while removing her chef's jacket.

Cindy definitely took the brunt of that fight, while she heaves for breath I notice her face has Bella's claw marks down one cheek. Kalyani comes to Cindy's side and places one dainty hand on her shoulder,

"Come on Cindy, let's get you ready for the next part of the punishment," she says calmly, helping Cindy to the bathroom, presumably to clean up her face.

The rest of the red team goes into the dorm bedroom together and changes out of our chef's jackets. Bella is the first one out of the room, flitting past everyone then down the stairs without a word.

When Cindy and Kalyani emerge from the bathrooms, we go down to the back door of Hell's Kitchen together and walk outside.

There, we are greeted by Ramsay holding his arms open in the air. Behind his raised arms to his left and right are two garbage trucks.

"You ladies are in for a long, smelly day I can tell you that." Ramsay grins, then signals to the garbage trucks to dump their loads.

Slowly and sickeningly, slop and mush tumbles out of the garbage trucks. The stream of rotten trash doesn't seem to stop for a straight minute. When the garbage trucks finish unloading, they drive off.

Ramsay walks towards us and begins to speak,

"Ladies, today you'll be separating out plastics, papers, and organics into each of the labeled bins to your right. Then, you'll hose down our parking lot so it doesn't look filthy. Finally, get showered and come back down to prep the kitchens for dinner service tonight."

Ramsay looks at each of us, then notices Cindy's scratches. With a worried expression, he approaches her, concern in his voice,

"Cindy, what happened to your face?"

Cindy raises her hand to her cheek then shakes her head, "eh, it's nothing Chef. Don't worry about it."

Ramsay squints, peering at her cheek. He then looks at each of the women again and makes eye contact with Bella. Bella hastily looks elsewhere and hides her hands behind her back. Ramsay clicks his tongue before backing away from Cindy.

"If you ever want to tell me what really happened, Cindy, you're welcome to visit me in my office. As for right now if you are alright, I'm getting out of here. It stinks to high hell. Good luck, ladies!"

Gordon opens the back door, waves to us then goes back inside.

The next three hours pass in a sickening wave of heat, stink, and heaving. More than once I feel like I am going to throw up picking through the sloshy mess of gunk. The awful smell burns into my nostrils. I feel like I have taken a bath in sour milk, my skin is crawling from sheer disgust.

When the garbage is finally sorted, Gail and Red take to handling the hose and spraying down the parking lot. The rest of us get a head start on the showers.

No matter how hard I scrub or how much scented shampoo, body wash and conditioner I use, the smell of rotting garbage still clings to me.

As I towel dry my hair I think to myself, I likely won't have a chance to spend one-on-one time with Gordon, so at least he won't be disgusted by my stink.

When each of us finish showering, we don our chef's jackets once more and head down to the kitchens to begin prep for dinner service.

About two-thirds of the way through prep, the blue team returns. They are each wearing a Lakers jersey with matching hat and holding a goodie bag. The boys walk through the kitchens where we were prepping, chatting loudly about how great the game was.

Garrett pinches Red's side as he walks past, eliciting a yelp. He laughs and continues past her to the dorms. Red looks furious but doesn't say anything as she continues prep work silently.

We finally finish prep as the blue team makes their way down wearing their chef's jackets once more. Gordon arrives at the head of the kitchen and waits for us to line up.

"Alright everyone, in case you didn't know, only about half of our services will be aired on television. I will still pick a winning team, of course, but there might not be an elimination. Now, this does NOT mean you get to be lazy fucks, the things you do in each service may be aired at any time. Please perform like the winners I know you want to be."

With that said, Gordon turns away from the kitchens and shouts,

"Jean-Philippe, please open Hell's Kitchen!"


	20. The Third Dinner Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third dinner service, who will win?!

Friday, June 28th, 2013

For this dinner service, Bella and Taylor are on appetizers, Gail and Red are on fish, Cindy and Kalyani are on meats, and Gina and I are on garnish. I am thankful to be on an easy station for once, it is kind of hard to screw up vegetables and sauce.

Chef Ramsay calls out our first ticket, two risottos, and one crab cake.

The girls are doing well getting out appetizers, at one point Chef Ramsay turns to us with a risotto that Taylor had brought up. I am sure that she is about to get scolded, but instead, Ramsay praises her,

"Taylor, this risotto is amazing. Please, keep them just like that, right?"

"Yes, Chef!" Taylor responds, beaming. She looks to me and I give her a thumbs up.

It is only when we make it to entrees that the walls come crashing down.

"What the fuck is this? Everyone, look, come here!" Ramsay's irate voice pierces our eardrums. Everyone looks up and rushes over to see what he is talking about.

In front of him, he holds a pan with a very obviously raw piece of pork on it. He throws the pan down.

"Fucking raw pork, disgusting. Inedible. You know what happens when people eat raw pork?" Ramsay asks.

Kalyani pipes up with a response,

"Chef, they could get worms."

"Yeah the fuck they do, Kalyani. I'm glad you know this, but how could you let it get sent up if you understand the risks? Which of you two cooked this?" he demands.

"I did, Chef..." Kalyani speaks, struggling to maintain eye contact with the enraged Chef.

"Not fucking good enough, Kalyani. You too Cindy, you need to make sure you both stay on track. No more raw meat at the pass today, got it?" he orders.

"Of course Chef, we'll be more careful!" Cindy retorts.

Thankfully the two of them kept their word and no more raw meat is sent up. The fish station is cooking up a storm in the meantime.

Cindy shouts to the fish station for a time and is met with silence. She then again shouts to ask for the time, but Gail is already headed to the pass.

"Fucking shit!" Cindy curses. Her meat is only halfway done when she pulls it out of the oven.

"Where's my flank steak?" Ramsay asks from the pass, not turning around.

"Chef, I still need four minutes. The steak is raw and I'm not sending it up to you like that!" Cindy responds.

"If you still needed four minutes why do I have the fish already? I thought we went over this, communication makes or breaks the service!" he sighs, then dumps the fish into the garbage can next to him.

"Fire another fish, and be ready with the meats this time, and TALK to each other!" he beseeches us.

"Four minutes on steak!" Cindy yells, to which Gail responds, "heard!"

Gina and I both fire garnishes and sauces, putting them up at the pass on time. I'd just finished walking up a sauce when my heart freezes as I hear Ramsay yell,

"Who brought me cold sauce? Are you serious?" he put a finger in the sauce and grimaces.

"Me, Chef, I'm sorry I grabbed the wrong one!" I rush over to him and hand him the correct sauce. I had accidentally left an old sauce right next to the fresh one.

He exasperatedly shakes his head and sighs,

"It may only be our third service, but I expect you to check everything before you send it up to me." he pauses, "Being here is a dream of yours, yeah? Show me you mean it. Be meticulous as I am and we'll get along fine, right?" he says as he carefully hands me the cold sauce.

"Of course Chef, I'll be sure to check everything!" I nod seriously before I go back to my station. Gina gives me an apologetic look before she returns to firing spinach.

Strangely enough, I don't hear much yelling directed at the blue kitchen. Even Sous Chef Scott looks pleased as each of the men brings up their dishes to the pass. I only notice one or two things being scolded, mostly minor and easily fixed problems like under-cooked scallops or needing to cut a portion size down a bit.

"Shut it down, everyone. Nicely done, for the most part," Ramsay says, crossing his arms.

Once everything is shut off, we line up next to the stoves.

"Right, the blue team really surprised me today. Men, you've won today's service, well done. Tonight is not an elimination night, but the red team's raw pork has me nervous. You all better shape up before the next service," he remarks, eyeballing Cindy and Kalyani.

"As the losers of tonight's service, the red team will be cleaning the kitchens. Spotless, as usual, if you please. Then make yourselves something to eat and get some rest for tomorrow. There's going to be a new challenge for you early on in the day." He taps his chin for a moment. "I'd also like to mention that this Sunday I'll be meeting with each of you privately in my office. Just a little check up on how everyone is doing, what you might need help with and so on. As you all know, there are no mics or cameras here on Sunday, so please speak candidly. Be thinking about what you want to talk about with me."

He nods before finishing, "well, get to cleaning then red team! I'll see you all tomorrow. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Chef!" everyone responds before the men happily make their way upstairs and the red team once again scrubs the kitchen clean.


	21. Breakfast Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Which team will complete today's breakfast challenge first?!

Saturday, June 29th, 2013

**COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO**!

What the...?

Is that a rooster?

My eyes slowly open just as I hear a second piercing call,

 **COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO**!

Good God, is this what farmers have to put up with every morning?

Groaning, I get up from the bed and head to the common room. There on the tables are two cages, both of them containing a full grown rooster. One of the roosters gives another call, which causes me to wince. These things are so loud!

Christina and Scott are standing behind each cage, grinning from ear to ear.

"An all-natural wake up for you guys today!" Christina laughs, taking hold of one cage while Scott grabs the other.

"Come on downstairs, Chef has a challenge prepared for you all. Don't keep him waiting," Scott said before he and Christina take the roosters back downstairs. As they descend the steps, one of the roosters lets out another loud crow, followed shortly by Christina's laughter. 

After a little time getting ready, we line up next to the stoves as per usual.

Chef Ramsay smiles as we come closer, I return the smile warmly.

"Good morning everyone!" he says cheerily.

"Good morning, Chef!" we respond.

"I've woken you all up for a special challenge today. As you know, here at Hell's Kitchen we like to honor our service people. This morning we have a very, very important set of customers gracing our dining room." He motions to the front entrance.

Jean-Phillipe opens the doors and slowly the dining room fills with men and women wearing scrubs, doctor coats, and other assorted medical outfits.

"When you get injured, the people you depend upon are the people sitting in front of you now. These are our most amazing emergency room staff from the local hospital. Cindy may even recognize the nurse who helped her with her stitches." Ramsay motions towards one particular brunette woman near the front. She waves at Cindy and Cindy waves back.

"Today we will be serving one of three breakfast options to start off our emergency staffs' day properly. We have the classic," he holds up his hand and indicates his first finger with his other hand, "pancakes with eggs and bacon," he indicates his second finger, "omelet with bacon," he indicates his third finger, "and finally, french toast with sausage!"

"Each team will be competing to feed their side of the kitchen. The first team to feed all of their patrons will, obviously, win." He shrugs while scanning our faces, "So don't fuck up, right? You wouldn't want them to fuck up on you. Red team, please choose two people to sit out today, to even out the teams. Now, get ready because your first tickets are about to come in!" Ramsay turns to the pass while we scramble to get set up, each of us choosing a station.

Red and I take the pancake station, Cindy and Gina take the omelet station, Kalyani and Bella take the french toast station. Taylor and Gail sit out (though not without grumbling).

The tickets start to flow steadily. Our team is banging out the dishes one after another, so much so that I hear Chef Ramsay shout to the blue team that we are leading by three tickets.

Of course, our success can't last forever. Gordon holds up a wimpy, black, shriveled piece of bacon with a disbelieving look on his face.

"Who thought this mangled piece of charcoal was good enough to send out to people who save lives regularly?" he growls at us.

Gina shouts out, "I'm sorry Chef! It won't happen again!"

Ramsay crushes the blackened bacon in his hand and dumps it into the garbage can.

"Yeah? it better not. They wouldn't serve that shit to your dying grandmother in the hospital so I don't expect you to feed it to them on their day off!" his bangs bounce with his head as he berates Gina.

"Fucking unbelievable..." Gordon mutters under his breath, turning back to the pass while running his fingers through his hair, mussing it up a bit. It looks rather cute. I recall how soft his hair felt against my cheek and longed to lace my fingers through it... regretfully, I shake my head, trying to clear my mind and refocus on my station.

Gina quickly starts firing a new order. At the same moment, I hear Gordon lash out at the blue team.

"These are meal portions for grown professional men and women, not for toddlers on a diet! What is this??" Ramsay holds up a plate with a spoonful of eggs on it.

"What's worse is you haven't even bothered to season this measly portion. Start over, everyone, start over because fucking Dave is too busy fucking around to make our EMTs a decent fucking breakfast." He shakes his head while he slams the plate onto the metal table at the end of the stoves, "Rubbish!"

While listening to the blue team squabble, my pancake has started burning. Quickly, I throw it out and begin a second one, calling out to the red team that I'll need an extra three minutes.

Miraculously, Chef is still too busy berating the blue team to hear my mistake. We manage to get our order out with no further issues.

Unfortunately, the blue team has caught up to us during my burned pancake fiasco. We are now neck in neck on the final ticket.

"Come on girls, let's push out this last ticket! Go go go!" Bella cheers while she flips her french toast.

We rush as quickly as we can to finish, all we are waiting on is the final omelet. Cindy finally finishes and rushes the omelet to the front of the pass, placing her plate down just before Abel on the blue team places his final pancake order.

Ramsay checks our omelet while we watch with bated breath.

He then calls for us to gather around him. We all rush to see what he is indicating.

Bella groans, placing her face in her palm and turning away from the pass.

"That's right, raw eggs, look, touch it." Ramsay indicates the inside of the omelet. We each touch it and feel the raw eggs stick to our fingers.

"Re-fire a new omelet, dammit," he says dolefully as he goes to check the blue team's finished the order. After just a few seconds, he calls for the waiter, which cements our loss.

We finish the ticket and bring it up, finishing the challenge in last place... again.

Once the emergency medical staff have finished eating, Gordon thanks them for their time and service before they file out of the restaurant.

After they have all left, Taylor and Gail rejoin the team and we line up by the stoves to await our punishment. The blue team are high-fiving each other and grinning widely.

"Excellent work, blue team." Ramsay claps his hands together. "You're in for a real treat. First, you'll be dining at the most amazing dinner theater experience, Magic Castle. What's even greater is that this will be a private show- that means you'll each get up close and personal with your talented magician entertainers. After that, you'll head to the Santa Monica pier again but this time," he pauses for dramatic effect, "it'll be to ride jet skis!"

The men jump around and cheer, whooping and hollering while patting each other on the back.

"Well then men, go on and get dressed!" He smiles at them before waving them up the stairs.

Then, Gordon turns to us, his eyes steely.

"Ladies, once again you are the losers of this morning's challenge," he pinches the bridge of his nose before continuing, "you really won't like this. I have a shipment of potatoes coming in for tonight's dinner service. You will first clean the kitchens. Then you will unload the potatoes and peel them, chop them and get them ready for fry baskets on each table. Finally, you will prep both kitchens in time for tonight's service. There will be an elimination tonight, so don't let your team down and get on anyone's bad side, right? Get to cleaning, then." He waved us off without waiting for our response, turns his back to us and heads up to his office.


	22. Oh Great, Another Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boy, red team is really getting used to losing. Let's see how their punishment goes!

Saturday, June 29th, 2013

Fortunately or unfortunately, cleaning the kitchen is something the red team is getting familiar with. It takes us a lot less time to get it spic-n-span clean, which means we made plenty of time for us to sit around peeling potatoes all day, oh joy.

A horn blares from outside just as the men are passing by us in the kitchen, headed to their reward.

"Have a great day ladies!" Dave snickers as he walks past, "Sure am glad I'm not with you guys!"

"We're glad you're not with us too!" Gina retorts as we follow the men outside.

The men have the sleek Hell's Kitchen limo waiting outside for them. A large transport truck is waiting for us, the rear end of it turned towards the door.

Gail signs off for our potatoes before Cindy flings open the back end of the truck.

Almost comically, a pile of potatoes topple from the top of the truck's stack, raining down on Cindy's head. She covers her head with her hands and runs away from the truck, potatoes rolling after her like they are putting up a chase.

We can hear the blue team's raucous laughter as their limo pulls away. Groaning, I bend down to pick up the potatoes that have rolled under the truck. Today is going to be a very, very long day.

After moving what felt like thousands of potatoes, we all sit down on chairs in a circle and get to work on washing and peeling them. Taylor sits to my left while Gina sits to my right. There is a basin of water for rinsing the potatoes in the middle of all of us.

After a few minutes of silence, Taylor is the first to speak,

"Hey guys, you know maybe one or both Kalyani and I should have been in the kitchen for this challenge." She brushes her hair out of her face with the back of her hand that is holding a potato, "Gina and Cindy both struggled today. That's not the first time we've seen Cindy have an issue."

Cindy glares daggers at Taylor, roughly peeling a potato as if she wishes it were Taylor she was skinning,

"Yeah well, speak up louder next time and you might not get pushed to the side. Ramsay likes people who stand up for themselves, and getting shoved out of a challenge ain't doing you any favors."

Bella daintily handles a potato before peeling slowly and retorting, "yeah, Cindy should have for sure sat out. But Cindy and Gina weren't the only people to fail," Bella turns the potato and continued, "Gordon might not have seen (Y/N) burn her pancake, but I sure did. Just because she didn't get yelled at doesn't mean she gets a free pass. We probably would have won if we didn't have to slow down for her to fix her mistake."

Gail nods, "I may not have been cooking but I did see (Y/N) burn that pancake. Next time we have to have someone sit out, we need to consider Cindy and (Y/N) as our biggest issues."

Taylor looks indignant, "(Y/N) burned one pancake, I'm sure you've burnt plenty of things during service. It was only today that burning one pancake brought us down, but that wasn't even the only bad thing that happened. That doesn't make her the 'biggest issue'."

Silently I try to convey my thanks to Taylor through an appreciative glance. She pats my leg with her hand that is holding a potato peeler, being careful not to nick my chef's pants in the process.

After that conversation, none of us really want to talk. We complete peeling the potatoes in relative silence.

With the potatoes finally done, we head to the kitchens to begin prep. After a few hours, the blue team returns. They file past us in the kitchen, chatting about how much fun they had and how great the magicians were. I try to close their chatter out, I don't really want to hear about how fantastic of a time they had while we spent our time cleaning, arguing and hauling potatoes.

Eventually, Chef Ramsay approaches the kitchens. I smile at him, thankful for having some sort of light to brighten this dismal day. He makes eye contact with me and I can feel he is aching to tell me something. I wipe my hands on a dishcloth then pretend like I am taking the cloth to the front to clean the pass before service. Once I get there, however, Ramsay ever so slightly shakes his head and indicates the microphone on his jacket tactfully. The look in his eyes is killing me, I want so badly to ask him what he wants to say, but keep my mouth clamped shut as he had silently requested.

After another few minutes, the blue team descends the dorm stairs and line up in the kitchens. The red team does the same, while Ramsay watches us all.

"Good afternoon everyone, I hope the blue team enjoyed themselves and I also hope the red team has some energy left to finish this next dinner service, yeah?" he looks to us.

"Yes, Chef," we respond, our tiredness evident in our unenthusiastic response.

"What?" he squints and cups his hand to his ear.

"Yes, Chef!" we shout, trying to liven up.

"Good. We have a full dining room tonight and everyone must do their very best, as tonight is elimination night. One of you **WILL** be headed home," his gaze sweeps the room, "and I already have an idea of who needs to go, honestly, so please prove me wrong."

Gordon then turns to the front of Hell's Kitchen.

"My Belgian friend, will you do the honors?"

Jean-Phillipe nods before opening the doors to Hell's Kitchen for our fourth dinner service of the season.


	23. The Fourth Dinner Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surely the red team can pull it together on this service, right...?

Saturday, June 29th, 2013

Tensions are high in the red kitchen as we wait anxiously for our first ticket. Today I am on the fish station with Taylor, Kalyani and Red are on appetizers, Gail and Gina are on meats and Cindy and Bella are on garnishes.

Our first ticket arrives, and Chef Ramsay shouts it out for us, "two risotto, two scallops, and one Caesar salad!"

"Yes, Chef!" we shout back, then each station begins working.

It is nice working with Taylor, she and I really mesh well together. Each of us keep up with the other's times and we communicate frequently on where we are in the process of cooking. It is definitely the best partner situation I'd had on a station thus far.

Both Taylor and I each finish our scallops at the same time, Taylor brings them up and we are happy to see both are acceptable to Ramsay, who hands them to the waiter.

Our next ticket is called out- one capellini, two Caesar salad, one risotto.

Unfortunately, the pairing of Bella and Cindy on garnishes is like pairing oil and water. The two can not get along for a second!

Anything Cindy says, Bella ignores. She even goes so far as to take pans that Cindy is working on and finishes them up herself. Cindy keeps trying to squeeze herself back onto the station, only just managing to work on a singular pan of sauce.

When Bella finishes the next ticket's garnishes, she grabs a pan of spinach and roughly turns, catching the handle of the pan of sauce Cindy is working on and knocking it off the stove, dumping it on Cindy's apron.

Cindy curses and quickly takes off her apron as the pan clatters to the floor. Chef Ramsay turns around from the pass.

"What the hell was that?" He walks over to the garnish station, passing by Bella who brings her spinach up.

"Oh come on Cindy, we can't send you to the customer disguised as their capellini!" He sighs, bending down to pick up the pan from the ground.

Cindy opens her mouth to retort, but Ramsay shuts her down.

"Well? Come on, clean it up then! The mop is in the back!" He waves her off while he cleans the stove with a few swipes of his towel. After a short while, Cindy returns and mops up the spilled sauce. Bella stands just behind her with her arms crossed, sneering hatefully at the back of Cindy's head while she waits for the station to be clean again.

Finally, we make it to entrees. The blue team has already sent up a few entrees, so the whole sauce fiasco really put us behind yet again.

Taylor and I are the dream team on fish, Taylor even does me the great favor of stopping a fish I hadn't noticed was raw from going up to the pass. Nothing we make is sent back, and Ramsay even once compliments the sear on my salmon, calling it "absolutely perfect."

Now on the last ticket, Ramsay is checking the meat station's filet. He groans as he picks up the pan and turns to us,

"Over-fucking-cooked, of course! Oh look, red team, the blue team has finished once again while you struggle to put up a piece of filet that isn't dry and hard. The filet is one of the softest parts of a cow and you managed to make it more resemble a kidney stone than a mouthwatering piece of meat. Fuck off, I'll cook it myself, everyone else re-fire the last ticket!"

Chef Ramsay kicks both Gail and Gina off the meat station and expertly cooks the filet to perfection. Taylor and I re-fire our salmon, and Cindy even manages to fire spinach without Bella's interference. We complete the last ticket and bring it up, straggling our way to finishing dinner service.

"Shut it down and line up, all of you," an exasperated Ramsay says from the head of the kitchen.

After a few minutes, we are all lined up, awaiting what he has to say.

"Ladies, you had such a strong start and now you're crumbling. Absolutely crumbling. You are the losers of tonight's service. Go upstairs and think of two people that are causing disaster after disaster on your team so that hopefully you can pull yourselves back to winning once more. Blue team, well done. Now everyone, fuck off," he dismisses us all.


	24. Elimination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who's gonna be kicked out of Hell on tonight's episode of Hell's Smitten?!

Saturday, June 29th, 2013

Once the red team makes it back to the dorms, we all sit down around the sofa. I decided that, since Cindy had stuck up for me, I should do the same for her.

"Bella, I saw you sabotage Cindy. I know Cindy didn't get a chance to tell Chef Ramsay, but you definitely caught your pan on hers on purpose."

Bella gives an overtly fake gasp.

" _ME_? SABOTAGE?" She puts a hand to her chest and flutters her eyelashes, "I could never!"

I roll my eyes and Cindy glares at Bella,

"Bitch I know you did, that pan was pipin' hot and full of sauce, you had to have put force into pushing it over onto me and makin' me look like a fool. I'm voting for you, Bella. You're a huge fuckin' thorn in the side of the red team. Other than that, I have to say either Gail or Gina, whichever one put up that hard filet."

Gail sighs. "That was me, but I could have redone it had Chef not come and kicked me off my station! I have to vote for Bella and Cindy. Both of you are not getting along and it's causing way more drama than we need on our team."

Gina adds, "Yeah, we could have fixed it if Chef just let us. I'm voting for Bella and Cindy too. One of you has to go."

Bella looks angrily at everyone. "I wasn't the one who fucked up tonight! If you're going to up someone at least pick someone who messed up!"

Red, who is sitting in a tall chair next to the couch, kicks her dangling feet before speaking.

"I'm going to have to agree with everyone else, Cindy and Bella both need to go up."

"This is fucking bullshit, want to talk about sabotage, my team is trying to vote me up for doing nothing wrong!" Bella hisses angrily, crossing her arms across her chest and leaning back into the sofa.

Slowly but surely, the rest of the red team decides that both Bella and Cindy need to be up. Hopefully if one of them is out, the unrest in the red kitchen will die down.

After coming to a conclusion, we are called back downstairs. There, Ramsay waits with his arms crossed, the blue team sitting in a booth to his right.

"Well, ladies, I trust you've come to a consensus?" he inquires.

"Yes, Chef," we respond.

"Good, then. Gina, please tell me your first pick and why," he asks.

"Chef, we've picked Cindy as our first nomination. She has been kind of slow to improve. Plus, her and our second pick never seem to get along."

"Oh? Who's the second pick then?" Ramsay tilts his head.

"Bella, Chef. Her and Cindy both are causing a lot of problems for us in the red kitchen." Gina looks at each of the two nominees as she finishes.

Ramsay shrugs, then curls his finger towards the two women, beckoning them forward.

"Right, Cindy, please tell me why you deserve to stay in Hell's Kitchen." Chef Ramsay bounces on his toes.

"Chef, I've been sabotaged by Bella this last dinner service. She purposefully spilled my sauce all over me, and she gave me next to no chance to actually make anything! Pretty much all the food you got today from the garnish station was cooked by Bella, she didn't even give me a chance to prove myself to you, Chef." Cindy fumes as she looks at Bella, who is standing next to her looking coolly indifferent.

"Bella, is this true?" Ramsay turns to look at her.

"Of course not Chef. Cindy has always been a weak member, ever since she brought up that raw chicken on the signature dishes. She's just looking for someone to blame for her weaknesses. I only made nearly every dish because she didn't take the initiative to do it herself." Bella nods her head as if agreeing with herself.

Cindy pipes up, "Chef, Bella was the one ta put those scratches on my face that you noticed earlier, she got into a fight with me over me having burned the scallops during our communication relay. I wasn't gonna say shit about it, but she's actin' like she never done did anything bad in her life."

Ramsay's eyes shoot over to Bella, who looks indifferent still.

"With this new information, it makes my decision a bit harder..." He paused, "Nevertheless, I do think I have to go with my gut feeling on this. I'm sorry. Bella," he glares at her while she steps forward, "back in line."

Cindy looks shocked, gasping as Bella haughtily makes her way back to the red team. We don't welcome her back. Most of us just watch Cindy resemble a fish out of the water, gasping while no sounds come out.

"I'm sorry Cindy, but your time in Hell's Kitchen is over. You should have told me that you and Bella had an altercation and I wouldn't have put you both on the same station." He sighs as she steps forward and hands him her jacket.

"Thank you, Chef," Cindy says, shaking his hand.

"Good luck out there, Cindy," Ramsay responds, waving her to the door.

As Cindy makes it to the door, most of the red team calls out to her with words of encouragement-

"Keep your head high!"

"Don't stop cooking, Cindy!"

"We love you!"

Cindy waves to us before she closes the door behind her.

Ramsay clasps his hands together.

"Bella, you better keep your nose clean from now on. You aren't a bad chef, but bad attitudes sink a kitchen just as quickly as a failed dish will. Now, tomorrow is your first day off- which means no cameras, no mics and you finally all get to rest. Remember, you'll also all be meeting me privately in my office to discuss anything you wish. Now, get some sleep. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Chef!" we respond, then all of us head back to the dorms silently.

There is a somber feeling in the air as we arrive in the dorms. I do feel like Cindy had gotten shafted, but the thought of getting to be alone with Ramsay consumes my mind. Hopefully tomorrow I'll get some answers as to what really is going on between us. Until then, I prepare dinner with the rest of my team while daydreaming about the Chef.


	25. (*) Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally our MC and Gordon get to spend alone time together!

Sunday, June 30th, 2013

The next morning we had the great honor of NOT being woken up early. I personally am the type of person who prefers to sleep until the ripe hour of 3pm or so, but I suppose waking up at 9:30 am is the best I could hope for what with being surrounded by so many people with paper thin walls.

Taylor is laying in bed drawing on a sketchpad.

"What are you drawing, Tay?" I lean over in bed towards her.

She smiles and turns the drawing towards me. It is a cute little dog sketch, the pup is laying down in a patch of flowers.

"Oh, it looks lovely!" I grin, sitting up in bed.

"Thank you, (Y/N), I haven't had time to draw any so I wanted to keep practicing before I fell out of practice." She taps the eraser end of her pencil against her temple, "Gotta keep the ole cogs workin'!" she giggles.

I look around the room and see that we are the only ones still in the bedroom. I am amazed that I managed to sleep through everyone else getting up. Yawning and stretching, I ask Taylor if Ramsay has started calling people for meetings yet.

"Oh yes." She stops sketching and considers my question for a moment, "He's talked to about a third of us so far. I think Gail is with him now."

 _Does that man ever sleep_? I think to myself, wondering just how early he'd started calling people in.

"I'm gonna head out and get some breakfast made, do you want anything Tay?"

"Oh, no thank you, I already ate some cereal. I just wanted to hang out where there weren't a lot of people when I was drawing. I don't like it when people try to creep on my artwork when I'm not done yet," she paused, "of course I don't mind sharing with you! Just, not other people." She waved her pencil at me as I left the room.

Still wearing my night outfit of a white t-shirt and blue shorts, I amble into the main room. About half of us are wearing our day clothes while the others are still in pajamas. There is a small group of people sitting on the couch together, Garrett, Dave, Jay, Bella, and Gina are all chatting away. Bella has her legs thrown over Dave's lap and is leaning back into the arm of the sofa laughing loudly at anything Dave says. Dave's hand is resting on one of her bare legs. I roll my eyes and go to the cupboard to pour myself some cereal.

"Ohh, look who's finally awake!" Bella shouts from the couch, leaning on one elbow to face me.

"Yep, just trying to get some extra Z's while I can," I say back, sitting down at a bar stool just outside the kitchen with my cereal in hand, not looking at her. Abel is to my right, reading a thick book. I can't make out the title. Pietro is in the kitchen humming as he cooks up some sausage.

"We were all just discussing what we'd talked about with Ramsay when he called us in. He's much kinder when he's not having to deal with us fucking up," Bella laughs, putting one arm around Dave's shoulders.

"He even showed me a few things," Bella pries, obviously looking for jealousy on my face. I still don't look at her but I can't help myself responding,

"Oh yeah? Did he show you how to be less of a drama queen?" I ask.

Dave laughs a bit, to which Bella scrunches up her face and removes her arm from around him,

"No, but he did show me how to properly tell the doneness of steak. He showed me where on my hand I could feel to compare to it. It really was quite informative." Her eyes glint impishly.

"I'm glad he could spare the time to teach you the basics, I certainly wouldn't have wasted his time with something as simple as how to tell when the steak is not mooing," I retort.

Bella huffs and flips her hair over her shoulder, pursing her lips and turning away from me.

Dave pats her leg comfortingly, but Bella continues to look sour. Dave and Abel exchange glances, unsure what to say.

A few minutes later, Gail comes back to the dorms and diffuses the tense silence. She retrieves Shaun and sends him downstairs to Ramsay's office.

I feel anxious as I wait for my turn. I finish my cereal then decide to get dressed. I reenter the dorms and go looking in my drawer for something to wear.

Deciding on a nice top that hugged my body and a pair of black leggings, I quickly get dressed. Taylor is still laying in bed doodling when I emerge from the bathroom.

"Have you already met with him, Tay?"

She shakes her head no,

"Nah, but I will be called soon, I can feel it. I don't have anything to really say though so it'll probably just be him talking to me until he's done. What about you, are you excited to see him?"

My eyes grow wide before I realize that the mics were turned off and put away since last night. I let out a breath but still motion for Taylor to keep her voice down. I sit at the end of her bed then whisper,

"I hope I can get some answers as to what is going on between us, but honestly I'm anxious. I have never been truly able to speak to him before just by myself. I know he likes me but... what if he doesn't like me once he actually gets to talk to me?" I look down dejectedly.

"Babe, chill out." Taylor bops me on the head with her sketchbook, "He's totally into you. My only thing is like, I hope you figure out what he's going to do about his wife. Y'all can't really be sneaking around forever."

My heart drops at the mention of his wife. I know it is something I have to bring up, but it kills me to think that what happened at Dining in the Dark might have to have been a one-time thing. We both were pretty caught up in lust and not really listening to our brains. Taylor notices my silence and sits up in bed, lays her sketchbook down and pulls me into a hug.

"Listen, girl, not everything can be forever, just enjoy what you have while you have it. _So_ many girls want to be in your place, I can tell you that." She gives me sly look, "I know Bella has been trying for him since the beginning. Buuut Ramsay doesn't seem to be into sluts," she covers her mouth as she says the last part as if she is embarrassed to curse. I hadn't noticed it until now, but I don't think I'd heard Taylor curse until just then. Huh, that's very different, especially for such a high-stress environment as this.

Just then, the door to the dorms opens and Shaun's voice came through the crack, "Taylor, you're next up," he passes on the message while averting his eyes from the room. It is nice to see he respects our privacy.

"Oh! Alright, hang on, I'm going!" she quickly closes her sketchbook and places it in the drawer beside her bed then springs up and makes to head for the door. She waves to me before she leaves, closing the door behind her.

I decide to rejoin the rest of the group in the main area now that I'm dressed. I take a seat on a chair near the sofa and listen to the idle chatter of the others. None of us have access to the outside world, which means no phones or television. It is a bit different for me to not be able to spend time on a weekend enjoying a show or playing a video game. Eventually, Taylor makes it back and requests for Abel to go meet with Ramsay next. She comes and sits on the arm of my chair and we discuss random things until it gets to be about midday. Finally, Pietro taps me on my shoulder.

"Hey, (Y/N), you're up last," he gestures towards the stairs.

My heart began to pound. Taylor pats my shoulder as I get up, then slides off the arm of the chair into the cushion of the seat.

"I'll hold your spot! Go on." She pushes my behind, spurring me to move.

My breath catches in my throat as I walk down the stairs to the kitchen. Eventually, I make it to the stairs leading to his office. Carefully, I hold onto the railing as I force myself to ascend. This is either going to make or break our 'relationship'. I feel the weight of the moment like cinder blocks on my feet, dragging me down.

 _Deep breaths, (Y/N),_ the voice in my head reminds me as I stand outside his ominous door.

Hesitantly, I bring my knuckles to the glass of the door and knock, almost too quietly.

"(Y/N)?" comes Chef Ramsay's voice from the other side of the door.

"Y-yeah..." I mumble, before I gasp as the door is opened quickly and I am pulled inside by my arm, the door closing rapidly behind me.

Ramsay stands over me, achingly close to my body, his eyes burning into mine. His hand is still gripping my arm as he looks me up and down.

After what feels like forever, he speaks.

"Do you have any idea how hard this is for me?" he sounds pained.

I shake my head, unsure as to what he is talking about exactly.

"You. _You_. When I am near you, each moment a pristine smile passes across your tortuous lips, and, God, any instant you look at me... I struggle to tear my eyes from you," he pauses, his hand that is on my arm slowly trails up past my shoulder to the side of my face and cups my cheek, "You inspire me with your passion. You are perfectly capable of everything you try your hand at - a talented, quick learner - and, on top of it all, you are a tantalizing, irresistible beauty."

I blush heavily and try to look down, but his hand on my face keeps me looking directly at his eyes. Those bright, shining, beautiful blue eyes that look at me with so much longing... I'm dying inside as I can only think of his wife. I step back until I am almost against the wall, Ramsay lets me out of his grasp but keeps watching me intensely.

"Chef, I..." I pause, tears almost coming to my eyes, "what about your wife? I'm not some fling, you know, and I don't want to cause you and her any issues and-" I am stopped by him stepping forward and pulling me into his arms.

"(Y/N), it's alright. And I respect you for asking, but it truly is OK." he holds me to his warm chest and I once again am overtaken by his delicious, masculine scent.

"How is it OK though?" I murmur into his chest, kicking myself for continuing my line of questioning when I could have just easily let him hold me and forgotten about it.

"Tana knows," he says, his chin resting on my head. I look up at him disbelievingly.

"She... She knows? She knows about us?" I shake my head, not able to comprehend what is going on.

"Yes, she does. Well, not about you specifically, but she has given me permission to do what we're doing." Continuing to hold me, he pulls me back from him to look at my face.

"What are we doing, then, Chef?" I ask, pleading for some sort of answer.

Wordlessly, he pulls me into him once more, but this time he bends down and his lips meet mine.

I kiss him back tenderly, throwing my arms over his shoulders and lacing my fingers through his soft blond hair. It is euphoric finally having him all to myself, his hands exploring my body openly, getting lower and lower... I let out an involuntary gasp as I feel him lift me by my thighs, pressing me against the wall I had retreated into moments before. Our kiss quickly deepens and becomes more desperate. I wrap my legs around his waist and hold him to me fiercely.

When we finally separate for breath, our eyes meet- wild and full of unbridled passion- before he lifts me from the wall and carries me to his large wooden desk.

The desk is strewn with papers and other assorted doodads, I don't care to really look before I push everything to the side, making space for him to lay me down on the desk. I release him from my arms but keep my legs wrapped around him as he breaks the kiss and begins planting pecks down the side of my neck. His breath is warm and I arch up into him, whimpering.

"You are so beautiful..." I hear him mutter into the side of my neck, the vibration of his voice against my skin raising goosebumps. I can only stifle a moan in response, unable to form words.

Suddenly, his hands whip up and grab my wrists, pinning me to the desk. He looks down at me, studying my breathless and flushed body with a steady gaze. When he beds down to kiss me again, he pushes himself flush against me, his groin directly resting between my legs that are still locked around him. The heat emanating from us both causes a sheen of sweat to break out across my skin. He lightly moves his hips against me, tantalizing my imagination with what he might feel like inside me.

"Do you want me to continue?" he draws his head back from our kiss, questioning.

I nod, biting my bottom lip and watching him through my eyelashes. He releases my wrists, then gradually and deliberately, he rolls my shirt up and over my head. My bra is nothing special, just a standard white, but his appreciation for how I look is evident in the further stiffening of his pants against me. His hands grasp my hips and pull me into a sitting position on the desk, sending a few more papers flying off and onto the ground.

"Take my shirt off," he demands, one hand holding the small of my back.

I nod once more, then grip the sides of his shirt, ready to pull it over his head.

_knock knock knock_

"Uhhh, Chef?" the hesitant but nonetheless recognizable voice of Pietro sounds at the door.

Ramsay groans, then looks around the room. There aren't many places I can hide, and time is getting short. He indicates for me to go under his desk silently.

Obediently, I grab my shirt and then slide under his desk in a sitting position. I can hear Ramsay gather some papers and the like from around the desk before he fixes his clothes and sits down at the desk. His legs are on either side of me, my face staring directly at his crotch. I clutch the fabric of my shirt tightly in my hands, trying to remain still.

"Come in, Pietro," he says, then moves one hand under the desk and to the side of my head, pulling me closer to him. He leaves his hand there, holding me mere inches from his black chef's pants.

"What is it, hm?" he inquires as I hear the door open, while his thumb rubs my cheek invisibly. I longingly eye his length through his pants, hoping that he might pull me even closer for a better 'look'.

"Hey Chef, I just wanted to mention something I forgot to say earlier," the sound of a chair scooting out then Pietro's huff as he sat down.

He pauses for a moment before he tentatively asks, "is- is now a good time?"

Gordon's leg shifts stiffly as he responds,

"Why wouldn't it be, Pietro? Just doing a little reorganizing of my desk is all, if that's what you're referring to. What was it you wanted to ask?"

Pietro breaths a sigh of relief before he continues,

"I think that I'm really starting to get the hang of the cooking times required for the different types of fish, but I wanted to ask, can you show me personally how to cook salmon with the skin on? I always, always burn it!" He sighs exasperatedly.

"Of course Pietro. Give me a few minutes, go get your chef's jacket on and I'll meet you in the kitchen," he responds.

"Thank you so much Chef, I really want to win this thing for you, you know?" Pietro sounds highly appreciative.

"It's no problem, Pietro. Go on now, give me a few minutes," Ramsay dismisses him.

"Sure, sure! Thank you Chef!" he replies, then I hear the sound of Pietro scooting the chair back out and exiting the room, closing the door behind him.

After a few seconds, he pushes his chair out from the desk, but takes me with him, holding my hair and drawing me up from under the desk and into his lap. I put my knees on his chair next to his hips then place my hands on either side of his face, pulling him into me once more. He wraps his muscular arms around me as we kiss- finally breaking away after what feels like no time at all.

"(Y/N), love, you have to go before Pietro makes it back to the kitchen, he's a lumbering man but he isn't _that_ slow," he smiles up at me, his eyes sparkling.

"Of course Chef," I nod as I manage to draw myself up from his lap, standing instead next to his desk as I pull my shirt on. Eventually, I arrive at the door, then look back at him. Ramsay is sitting at the disorderly desk still, his hair a bit messier than before but otherwise looking the same as he ever does, the smile still on his lips.

As I go to turn the doorknob, I hear my name,

"(Y/N)?" he questions.

"Yes, Chef?"

"Call me Gordon."


	26. Dinner in the Dorms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our contestants prepare dinner while MC has a lot on her mind.

Sunday, June 30th, 2013

As soon as I get back to the dorm, I grab Taylor's shoulder and pull her with me into the vacant bedroom, past everyone on the couch. She waits until I closed the door before she eagerly bounces up and down and begins peppering me with questions.

"What happened?" "Did you find anything out?" "What did he say?"

I hush her by putting a finger to my lips. She quiets down then sits on the end of her bed, drawing her legs up into her body and looking at me expectantly.

I sit down next to her and am silent for a moment. She wiggles in place with excitement as she waits for me to speak.

"Well," I gulp, "he and I, uh..."

She gasps and puts her hand to her mouth. "Did you guys-"

"No!" I respond quickly, still trying to get her to quiet down, "but we did kiss."

She squeaks, then wraps her arm around my shoulder and leans back until we both fall onto the bed, laughing.

"Was it amazing? Is he a good kisser?" she pries.

"Yes, and yes," I respond, blushing as I recall his skill.

"This is insane, absolutely crazy, I'm so excited for you." She pauses, "Did he explain what was going on with his wife? Are they breaking up?"

I shake my head. "He actually said she knew what we were doing. Not that she knows of me specifically, but that she had given him permission for... what we did."

She looks confusedly at me, and I return her look with a shrug.

"I don't really know the details, we didn't actually talk a whole lot."

Taylor gives me a wry grin and nudges my side with her elbow. "Too busy getting busy?" she giggles.

I laugh but don't respond, my flushed face giving me away.

"Well, I hope you find out more soon. I hope you don't have to wait until next Sunday to get any new information. The anticipation would be too great, I think." She turns her body towards me on the bed.

"Oh God, me too. I don't know how I'll behave normally during service either. I still have so many questions." I sigh and rest my arm over my forehead, trying to cool my face down.

"Well, you better do well during service because even if he's into you I'm sure he won't give you a pass on elimination day if push comes to shove. I'll try to keep you focused," Taylor responds.

"Thanks, Tay," I gratefully reply.

It is getting late into the evening, and I know the group will be out in the kitchen preparing dinner. Taylor and I both get up after a while and go to join everyone.

In the kitchen, Shaun is working over a pot of noodles while Pietro is practicing cooking salmon, smiling to himself as he flips it over and sees a perfect golden finish. Kalyani is chopping vegetables while Abel fusses over a pan of sauce. The stove is pretty darn crowded and I don't really see anything that needs my assistance, so I sit at the bar stool right outside of the kitchen. Taylor sits next to me and starts chatting to Kalyani.

Red, who had been sitting on the couch, comes over and sits on the other side of me. She smiles softly, then speaks,

"Getting to talk to Chef Ramsay personally really helped me understand some things I was struggling with. I hope we get more chances to talk to him in the future, without having to worry about being recorded. All of these cameras and mics make me feel like I have a thousand eyes on me constantly." She absentmindedly rubs her arm.

"I completely understand what you're saying, Red," I agree, feeling the pain of near-constant surveillance far worse than she can ever know.

"Do you think we'll have a challenge tomorrow?" she inquires.

I think for a moment.

"Yes, probably. I think he has to eliminate one of us every 2 days, and he likes to do challenges on elimination days."

Red nods solemnly. "I wish none of us had to go. I don't really want to go back to real life."

I pat her shoulder comfortingly.

"Don't worry about that, Red. We just need to focus so we can make it to the top five together."

She puffs out her cheeks in determination, resembling an adorable chipmunk. "Yeah, right. You're right." She then turns back towards the kitchen, watching everyone work.

After thirty minutes, the food is ready. We all get out plates and serve ourselves dinner, skin-on salmon with buttered noodles. It is somewhat simple, but it hits the spot.

Dinner conversation mostly focuses on what Ramsay had discussed with everyone. Eventually, the spotlight shines on me as Garrett points his fork in my direction, a noodle hanging limply off the end of a tine.

"What did you and ole Gordy discuss?"

Everyone's eyes turn to focus on me, Bella's and Pietro's especially.

I swiftly rack my brain for a response, drawing a blank. I stare down at my salmon, willing for an answer to form on my lips, but finding nothing.

"Uh, _hellooo_?" Garrett waves his fork at me, the noodle wiggling.

Kalyani reaches out and puts her hand on Garrett's arm, pushing it down to the table.

"Manners, Garrett. You don't point at people, it's intimidating and rude."

Garrett mumbles,

"So? If she can't handle intimidation she needs to get the hell outta Hell's Kitchen, s'all I'm saying."

Kalyani continues,

"There's intimidation that's meant to cause improvement. Then there is the kind you're doing, the annoying and not-helpful-to-anyone kind. It also makes you appear insecure." She eyes him before tutting, "Intimidating women isn't the best look for you."

"Ohhhh, Kalyani got the _burns_!" Jay hollers, eagerly bouncing his eyes between the two like he is watching a tennis match.

Garrett fumes but otherwise doesn't continue the argument, stabbing his salmon with his fork roughly. I am thankful to Kalyani for changing the subject so I don't have to come up with a response as to just what Gordon and I 'discussed'.

After dinner, Pietro approaches me hesitantly. I gulp as my mind goes through everything he might ask me.

"Uh hey, (Y/N), I didn't see you at your scheduled meeting time with Chef Ramsay..." he trails off, being sure to not meet my eye-line.

"Yeah, Pietro, I didn't really have anything to say, so the talk wasn't very long. I went to the bathroom after my meeting, so you probably just missed me," I lie, hopefully convincingly.

He finally makes eye contact, smiling timidly. "Oh, good, I thought..." he trails off again, "never mind, anyway, sleep well." He abruptly turns away and heads towards the men's dorm.

I get dressed in my sleeping outfit and lay down in bed earlier than everyone else. Memories of Gordon's touch swirl through my brain. If I really concentrate, I can still smell him on my skin. If I had been alone, those thoughts alone would be enough to take me to the edge. However, I don't know when the others will be joining me, so I opt not to chance being caught. Uncomfortably, I shift in bed and try to ignore my desire.

 _Soon_ , I think to myself _.  
_

 _Soon_.


	27. Vegans? In MY Resturant?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh, a unique challenge comes to Hell's Kitchen!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, I didn't mean for my show times to line up with real life but here we are :P I may be a biiit behind when it comes to the 4th of July episode but I'm going to try my best to get it out around the holiday! Look forward to it as our MC and Gordon will find some time together yet again ;3

Monday, July 1st, 2013

The next morning, the dorm rooms fill with the sound of the phone ringing. Everyone in the red dorms sleepily groans or toss under their covers, it takes almost five rings before someone from the blue team gets up and answers it.

After another thirty seconds, Garrett's deep and boisterous voice shakes the rooms,

" **AYO! EVERYONE! UP AND AT EM! CHEF RAMSAY NEEDS US DOWNSTAIRS IN TEN MINUTES!** "

We all try to jump to action as fast as people who just got done lazing around on a Sunday can. I affix the microphone to my undershirt, sighing. Am I going to have to wait the entire week to get to speak candidly to Gordon? 'Gordon' rolled around in my mind as I savor the permission he'd given me to call him by his first name. Of course, I'd only use it privately. I don't want people suspecting anything.

Once we all gather downstairs, Ramsay addresses us all.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Today's challenge is going to be the most interesting one thus far. I hope you all have studied all sorts of cuisine because this one will be a doozie if not."

I go over different cuisine types in my head- Mexican, Chinese, low-carb, fusion, but which one will he pick?

"This will be a first ever occurrence for Hell's Kitchen. I'd like you all to give a warm welcome to our guest and star of the evening, Chef Juliana de Souza!" He gestures to the door, where a young and peppy Brazilian woman waves with both hands as she enters. She has a tie-dyed long skirt on and a ruffled top, sandals just peeking out from beneath the hem of her skirt.

"Hello my Sunshines!" she smiles and waves at us again. Some of the blue team members glance at each other. I can see in their eyes they aere silently communicating- _did this chick just call us Sunshines?_

Gordon waits for the men to look forward once more before he continued,

"Chef de Souza owns the very exclusive vegan restaurant, _Naked Flowers_. You did hear that right everyone, Juliana is going to be hosting her yearly vegan convention at Hell's Kitchen this year!" Ramsay grins mischievously as he surveys our faces.

Vegan?! I'd never made vegan food before. Many of the red team also look equally as confused as I. Only Gail looks completely at ease, the shadow of a smile on her lips.

"I've made the most delicious and delectable vegan food ingredients available to you all. I want to see each team come up with an appetizer and two entrees. Now here is your chance to talk to Chef de Souza and see what her ideas are."

Chef de Souza sits in the chair across from Chef Ramsay, her eyes closed, humming to herself. We all stand silently waiting for her, but she never stops humming. Eventually, Kalyani clears her throat and steps forward.

"Chef de Souza, I was wondering if you could tell me what kind of food you like."

The chef opens her eyes and smiles widely at Kalyani.

"Beautiful girl, I'd love if you would make a dish that makes you feel like you're at one with nature. The sun on your skin and the wind through your hair." She goes back to humming and closed her eyes once more.

Kalyani shrugs as she steps back in line, and I take a second to consider if there is any actual information in what de Souza had just finished saying.

Abel steps forward next, his hands clasped behind himself.

"Ma'am, is there anything you don't like?"

Her eyes shoot open as she locks her gaze onto Abel.

"Be sure whatever ingredients you use are clean."

"Uhm, clean, ma'am?" Abel responds.

"Yes, clean from wicked emotions, clean from sadness, clean from anger. The only unclean that is alright is if you leave dirt on the vegetables. That's just hearkening back to the origin of the plant, and is acceptable." She nods serenely.

Abel steps back into line politely, looking as befuddled as the rest of us.

Gordon looks like he is having a grand old time, a big smile on his face as he nearly snickers,

"Right, I hope everyone is absolutely clear now. It's time to deliberate with your teams, you'll have forty-five minutes to plan and execute your dishes. Get to work, then!" He claps as he gets up from his chair and turns to Juliana. 

"Please give us a short while to prepare your dishes, I will call for you when we're done."

She nods patiently then exits out the front door.

The red team gathers together, most of us looking unsure of ourselves. Gail then speaks,

"It seems you all might not have much experience with vegan foods, thus I will offer my expertise. My mother and sister are vegans and I often would cook for them. I'll share with you all some of the secrets to good vegan cooking."

We share looks of relief among the group before we all lean in to hear what Gail has to suggest.

After a bit of discussion we conclude that Bella and Red will work on crispy buffalo cauliflower bites for our appetizer. Kalyani and I decide on a brussels sprout, sweet potato and balsamic vinegar pizza entree while Taylor and Gina will be on veggie burgers. Gail takes up the task of floating between stations to be sure we're doing everything properly.

Things are going fairly smoothly, especially with Gail's assistance. Thank goodness someone knows vegan food on our team! I silently hope that the blue team has no one to help them grasp vegan cuisine so this can be an easy win for us.

Midway through the baking time on our pizza I notice Gina starting to look through drawers and cabinets, searching for something.

Gail notices as well and comes over, inquiring as to what Gina is needing.

"Well, I can't seem to find dirt anywhere!"

"Dirt?" Gail asks confusedly.

"Yeah! How else will I ensure my veggie burger is one with nature if I don't get the grittiness of sun-dried dirt stuck in Chef de Souza's teeth?" she asks, grinning.

Gail cracks a rare smile and shakes her head, patting Gina on the shoulder. Gina sticks out her tongue playfully and laughs as she gets back to working on her burger.

Finally, both teams finish up their example dishes, and Chef Ramsay calls de Souza back into the building. She sits at the judge's table with Gordon, looking peaceful.

"Alright everyone, Chef de Souza will be choosing her favorite dish from each of the presented dishes. If there is a tie, I will break it. Now..."

Gordon motions for the first dishes, the appetizers, to come forward.

Bella walks the buffalo cauliflower to the front and sets it down carefully. Shaun walks his team's entree up and sets it down as well.

"Let's go with the blue team first. Shaun, what have you prepared for Miss de Souza?" Gordon gestures to the plate.

"Chef, Pietro and I have prepared garbanzo bean stuffed grilled mini peppers. The peppers are sweet and tangy." He slides the dish towards de Souza.

She lifts the plate in her hands and examines the peppers closely before setting the plate down. "Ah, I can see you praised the sun before grilling the peppers. Let's give it a taste." She picks up a pepper and bites into it. 

"Your energy is very warm, very yummy!" She smiles at Shaun, who returns the smile hesitantly.

Chef Ramsay also tries a bite, nodding, before turning to Bella.

"Bella, what have you made? Describe it please?"

"Chef, I made crispy buffalo style cauliflower bites." She passes the plate over.

Chef Juliana once again examines the plate before setting it down.

"Did you activate the cauliflower?" she asks, sharply eyeing Bella.

"Uhm, did I what?" Bella tilts her head.

"Activate. The. Cauliflower," Juliana presses.

"S-sure?" Bella guesses.

"Lovely!" de Souza responds, heartily taking a bite. "Ah yes I can taste it, you've done well Bella. Splendid."

Gordon tries a bite and nods, raising his eyebrows before addressing the other Chef.

"Alright Chef de Souza, which is your winner?"

She pauses for a moment, pressing her fingertips together and closing her eyes.

"I'm going to have to go with the stuffed mini peppers. The sunshine is so evident in the dish, I'm sure everyone will love it."

"Right then, blue team, one point!" Ramsay hands the dishes back and each chef returns to their place in line.

"Next up, the first set of entrees! Come on then," he continues.

Kalyani takes our dish up, while Garrett brings up his team's dish.

"Let's start with the red team this time, Kalyani, what do we have here?" Gordon opens his palm towards the plate.

"(Y/N) and I made a brussels sprout, sweet potato and balsamic vinegar pizza for your enjoyment." She passes the dish over.

De Souza examines the pizza as she had the other dishes, but this time she ' _hmm'd_ ' before taking a bite and closing her eyes, barely chewing.

Chef Ramsay tries a bite.

"Excellently cooked."

He then turns to Garrett. "Blue team, please present your dish."

Garrett hands his dish over to Chef de Souza. "Jay and I made you a curried millet cake with creamy red pepper coriander sauce."

This time, de Souza tries a bite without raising the plate up in the air.

"It's got too much fire in it, I think, Garrett." She sets her fork down. 

"You need to speak to your food before you serve it. If it tells you 'I'm too hot!' then listen to it!"

Ramsay tries a bite next, then scrunches up his face. "Yeah, too much curry powder. A shame. Which are you choosing, Chef?"

"I will have to go with the pizza, the ingredients are much more harmonious there."

"Excellent then, one point for the red team. It looks like our second entree will be the tiebreaker. Come on then," he calls up the last dishes.

Abel and Taylor are last, and each brings up their plates.

"Red team, please describe your dish," Ramsay requests.

Taylor passes the dish over. "Gina and I made a classic veggie burger, with onion and tomato as well."

Juliana lifts the burger up carefully from the plate, turning it around and examining it from all sides. 

"I can feel the connection to nature in this dish. Delightful." She takes a bite and sighs contentedly. Ramsay also tries a bite and slightly gags, but he doesn't say anything negative about it. Maybe he just doesn't like vegan burgers, I know I don't.

"Last but not least, Abel, please describe your dish." Ramsay looks at his watch then back to Abel.

"Chef Ramsay, Dave and I prepared a creamy mushroom stroganoff dish made with almond milk." Abel hands the dish to de Souza carefully.

She sniffs the dish, wafting the scent with one hand. "Incredible. I can smell the ground the mushrooms grew from."

Grabbing a fork, she takes a hefty bite then slams the fork on the table, shouting,

"I've never tasted a dish so connected to nature! This is _amazing!_ " tears bud in her eyes as she praises the dish.

Abel, looking slightly uncomfortable, takes a step back.

Ramsay tries a bite and then takes another. "This is truly very, very good Abel and Dave. Who's idea was it?"

"Sir, this dish was my idea, though Dave definitely did have input," Abel states.

"Lovely, I think the winner here is clear, Juliana?" he looks to her.

She nods wildly, throwing her hands up in the air then rushing to Abel and giving him a hug. He looks more than slightly uncomfortable now and leans away from her grasp. She doesn't notice, or maybe she doesn't care, but she keeps hugging him while she continues to sing praises of the dish.

Ramsay laughs while watching her, then pats her back to get her to withdraw from Abel. She smiles up at Abel when she finally lets him go, takes his hand and kisses the back of it.

"You, if you don't win you need to come work for me," her eyes sparkle, " _please_?"

Abel gives a small nod and she squeaks happily again. I'm sure she would have attempted to embrace him once more, but Abel has already started stepping back to get in line.

"Thank you very much, Juliana, we look forward to serving you and your friends at dinner service tonight." Ramsay shakes her hand. She wraps her left hand around hers and Gordon's handshake and bows her head before she releases him and heads to the exit. After she leaves, Gordon chuckles to himself as he leans back and shakes his head, his hands on his hips.

"Blue team, well done once again! You are really blowing the red team out of the water recently. This time, you've won a relaxing day at the spa, followed by a lunch at La Botte, a delicious local Italian restaurant! Go on and get dressed, men." He dismisses them and they happily head to the dorms.

He then addresses us.

"Ladies, what's happening? You started off on fire and now you're more closely resembling burnt out coals. I do hope you get out of the rut soon. For your punishment, you will be cleaning both kitchens and then decorating the dining room according to how Chef de Souza's close friend, Penelope, desires. Lastly, you will be prepping the kitchens for dinner service tonight. Be sure to be impeccable in your decorating..." he leans towards us and raises a hand to hide his mouth from the cameras, "we all know how particular vegans are, right?" he playfully teases.

"Yes, Chef!" we all reply, sounding hearty but feeling miserable.

"Get to it then, ladies." he waves us off, taking the stairs to his office two at a time.

 _Maybe someday we'll manage to win something again_ , I think as I start cleaning the kitchen for what feels like the hundredth time.


	28. Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More punishment for the red team, booo!

Monday, July 1st, 2013

Now that the kitchens are cleaned, we all head to the main dining area to await Penelope. We whisper our expectations to each other- will this lady be as... 'extra' as Chef de Souza?

A few minutes later, the doors to Hell's Kitchen open and a short, peppy black haired woman waltzes in. She smiles widely at everyone.

"Hello, guys! I hope you're excited about decorating, we're going to be going with a flower theme, obviously, in honor of the restaurant's name ' _Naked Flowers_ '. I have boxes upon boxes of flowers in the back of the van I've brought with me, so please help me carry them in."

She then holds open the door to Hell's Kitchen and ushers us out to the van.

The large green van is waiting in the front, the back doors are opened and I am able to see several boxes of flowers inside. Thankfully, flowers aren't that heavy so each of us is able to carry a box each back into the dining room.

"Alright, half of you stay here and get to wrapping the chairs in flowers and setting up vases in the center of each table, the other half come with me for the last boxes!" Penelope shouts, directing everyone.

I stay behind to begin decorating the chairs. Some boxes are labeled 'chair deco' so I take out the violets inside and begin twining them across the back of the chairs. There is floral wire included in the box, so it makes wrapping the chairs much easier.

Penelope is actually great fun, she helps where she can and doesn't get too pushy on anyone. Gina especially appreciates all the flowers, happily comparing a few of them to the flowers on her sleeve tattoos and taking deep sniffs. After four hours, we have the entire dining room looking like a flower boutique and smelling equally as good. But of course, the punishment isn't over yet.

Once Penelope decides we'd done enough, she lets us get to our prep work for the fast approaching dinner service.

We filter into the kitchen. I am not exhausted like the punishments usually leave me feeling, but my hands are very sore from tying up so many flowers. At least we aren't going to have to deal with a meat or fish station this upcoming service.

Three hours into prep the blue team comes back to Hell's Kitchen. This time they are all looking clean, fresh and for once every one of them smells nice.

Bella sighs, examining a broken nail.

"If only we'd won I'd be the one looking and feeling wonderful, Gail wanted to pretend that she knew how to make ' the best' vegan food but de Souza didn't think it was very great! Why do I ever listen to anyone but myself?"

Gail just shrugs. "You can't please everyone all the time. She just had different tastes than I was used to preparing food for. I didn't see you offering any vegan suggestions, Bella."

Bella chops peppers in half and grimaces. "Of course I don't have vegan suggestions, I like to eat real food, not rabbit food."

Gail stiffens. "Just because you don't partake in a cuisine doesn't mean that you shouldn't study it. Chef Ramsay told us just a few days ago that one should always know what to do with an ingredient. Were you faced with a chickpea, you'd be stumped."

Bella raises her knife and points it towards Gail as she speaks,

"If you're accusing me of not being good enough for Chef Ramsay and his restaurant, you better take that shit back _bitch_." Venom laces her words as she spits them at Gail, jabbing the knife towards her threateningly.

"What the **hell** is going on here??" the shocked voice of Chef Ramsay causes both Bella and Gail to quickly turn towards him, Bella slamming the knife down on her cutting board.

"I was just coming down here to check on everyone and I see a bloody stickup in my kitchen, Bella, what are you thinking?" he addresses Bella, who looks like a deer in the headlights.

"I'm sorry Chef," Bella whispers, seeming to have found her voice. "Gail was making it sound like I knew fuck-all about what I was doing, and it hurt my feelings."

"Well, **do** you know fuck-all about what you're doing? Because what I see you doing right now is threatening a fellow chef. After your altercation with Cindy, I would have thought you'd get a grip on your temper. Maybe I was wrong." He crosses his arms, eyeing Bella suspiciously.

"I'm sorry, Chef," Bella repeats, sounding genuine.

"Bella, one more issue from you, one more physical threat, and I'll carry you out of the building by the seat of your fucking pants. Do I make myself clear?" he warns.

"Of course Chef, I'm so sorry. I'll be perfect for you from now on," she pleads.

"You better, because I'm getting tired of your shit." He then gestures at me to come forward.

I step towards him, a bit intimidated by his fierce demeanor, even though it isn't directed at me.

"My dear, will you please fetch the blue team? Service is starting in thirty minutes," he asks kindly, his attitude doing a complete 180 turn. It definitely helps me feel calmer.

"Of course, Chef, I'll be right back." I then turn and hustle up the stairs to the dorm.

The men are lazing about, but thankfully they all have their chef's jackets on.

"Come on guys, Chef Ramsay needs us ready for service," I request, making sure everyone hears me.

Eventually, all the men get up and follow me back downstairs. We line up by the stoves and wait for Gordon's cue.

Once he sees us all ready, he claps his hands. "Jean-Phillipe, please open Hell's Kitchen for vegan night!"


	29. The Fifth Dinner Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's see how our ladies do this time, eh?

Monday, July 1st, 2013

Since this is vegan night and the menu options are much more limited, the assigned stations are a bit different. Kalyani and I are put on pizza together since we were the ones to make it to Gordon's liking during the taste testing portion of our special event challenge. Red and Gail are on the stuffed peppers appetizer, Bella and Gina are assigned to stroganoff, and Taylor is by herself on the garnish station. She seems excited to have the first solo station on the red team, she probably takes it as a good opportunity to prove herself.

Jean-Phillipe leans over the pass, holding out the first ticket between two fingers. Ramsay takes the ticket with a "thank you" and then turns to us to read the order,

"Three stuffed peppers, followed by one stroganoff and two pizza!"

"Yes, Chef!" we shout back.

Red and Gail fire their peppers while Kalyani and I prepare our pizzas for firing. Stroganoff vegan noodles are also dropped to begin cooking. Taylor is waiting to begin cooking her mushrooms and sauce, watching us all eagerly.

Red brings up her peppers and slides them next to Chef, then turns to go back to her station. Ramsay stops her,

"Mary?"

"Yes, Chef?" her voice wavers.

"Excellently done. They look delicious," Ramsay praises.

Red stands up straighter and smiled,

"Thank you, Chef!"

Red returns to her station with a pep in her step that- unlike her voice- never wavers. It seems that every order she and Gail put up is absolutely spot on.

Our pizzas are done in the oven, so I take them out and bring them up to Chef Ramsay. When he sees me approaching he smiles, a glint in his eye. I smile back, unable to help myself.

"Here are your pizzas, Chef!" I cheerily say as I slide the pizzas into place.

He turns his eyes from me to the pizzas to inspect them, not wanting to be in the way I head back to my station. All seems well as he plates the pizzas and calls for a server to deliver them.

Midway through our second ticket, right as I am in the middle of firing another pizza, one of the waiters returns to the pass.

"Chef, the customer says his pizza is raw."

"Raw? Where?" Ramsay observes where the server points, his eyebrows furrowing.

"I don't see a single thing wrong with this pizza. Show me to the customer's table, would you?" he asks the server.

The server looks shocked, but nods and leads Chef Ramsay from the kitchen towards a nearby table.

The customer- a young man with gauges and a band t-shirt- looks pleased to see Gordon, but only momentarily.

"Would you be so kind as to show me where on your pizza is raw?" he asks the customer.

The man points to a spot on the pizza, completely opposite from the spot that the server had indicated.

Ramsay scoffs,

"Are you trying to waste my time, huh? This pizza is perfect, amazing, cooked to perfection. If you were looking for screen time, you fucking got it," he berates the customer, who slides down in their chair as if they were trying to fade into the carpet.

"Keep this pizza or get out, I don't honestly care either way." He drops the pizza in front of the young man, who still stays shrunken down in his chair.

Ramsay heads back into the kitchen and goes to the pass to begin plating the food again. He doesn't get far before he groans, grabbing a plate of what looks to be blackened mushrooms.

"Who cooked this shit?" he shouts into the blue kitchen.

Jay hesitantly speaks up, "I did Chef."

"How could you fuck up something as simple as cooking mushrooms for a fucking stroganoff? These mushrooms are burnt to shit!" he throws the plate of mushrooms on Jay. Of course, they are all burned, so none of them are sticky enough to stick to his jacket.

Garrett is standing stock still holding a pizza, watching Ramsay berate Jay.

Ramsay then turns pointedly towards Garrett. "What are you gaping at you fucking donkey?" He stares at Garrett with his mouth hanging open mockingly before continuing,

"Bring that dish to the pass or you might as well re-make it. The pizza is getting cold as the fucking Himalayas waiting on you to move your ass."

Garrett nods then rushes to the pass. He runs into Shaun, who drops his plate of grilled peppers all over the floor. I quickly cover my mouth to stifle a laugh.

Ramsay throws his hands up in the air.

"Fine, fuck it! Remake the whole order you fucking loons, listen and use your goddamn eyeballs when moving about in the kitchen!"

"Yes, Chef! Sorry Chef!" many of the blue team members shout.

I decided I should probably move MY ass too, so Ramsay won't have a reason to yell at any of us on the red team. Once Ramsay gets riled, it is really easy to flip that anger switch onto a whole new target.

Chef Ramsay couldn't seem to stay off the blue team's backs for the rest of the night. One thing after another they screwed up until he'd had enough.

"It was a mistake sending you all on that reward. They must've massaged the passion and skill straight out of your bodies. I'm tired of all of you, honestly, I've had e-fucking-nough." He jabs his finger at Garrett,

"You,"

Then at Dave who jerks his head up from his stroganoff noodles, shocked.

"You,"

Pietro drops his pan and raises his hands in surrender as he sees Ramsay point at him.

"You,"

Shaun backs away from his station complaisantly, wiping his hands on his apron.

"You,"

Jay looks up from his position on the floor where he had been picking up the burnt mushrooms.

"You,"

Then finally, he points at Abel, who switches off his burners and brings his pans to the side of the stove.

"And you,"

He then points to the exit at the back of the kitchen,

"Fuck off! Go on and start deliberating over two fucks you want to send up for elimination. Who knows, I might even eliminate them both." He shrugs, raising his eyebrows, "God knows you deserve it. Out of my sight." He then turns to the red team,

"Mary, Gail and (Y/N), come to finish up the blue team's tickets, please."

We all rush into the blue kitchen. It is nice knowing we'll likely win this service if we do well on the blue team's tickets. While our team only has one ticket left, the blue team has four. I quickly get to work on the stroganoff and garnish.

"Once the red team's ticket is finished I'll send over the rest of the ladies to help. In the meantime, do your best, right?" he addresses us all but makes eye contact with me specifically.

"Of course Chef, we won't let you down!" I respond, laying another pan down on the stove for mushrooms.

"Good girl, thank you." He nods at me then goes back to plating food.

Rosiness blooms in my cheeks as I process just how amazing it feels to be called ' good girl' by him. I'm sure he's said that before many times with no other connotations, but it feels like more to me.

His praise empowers me to work like Superwoman in that kitchen. The three of us had already finished two tickets and I am working on four dishes simultaneously when the rest of the red team comes over to assist.

After just a short while longer, the blue team's tickets are cleared. Ramsay throws his towel over his shoulder and turns to us.

"Excellent work, ladies. Please go rest in the dorms and wait for me to call you down to watch the men's elimination. Thank you for your efforts." He waves us up to the stairs.

We all bump into each other happily, high-fiving and cheering, finally we'd managed to not only complete dinner service for the red team but for the blue team as well! Maybe now we'd finally crawled out of our rut.

'Good girl' echos in my mind as I go to lay on the couch, exhausted but finally happy with our service.

Good girl, indeed.


	30. Elimination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Which of the men is going home today?

Monday, July 1st, 2013

After another fifteen minutes of the blue team deliberating, the phone rings. Red answers, then calls for all of us to meet in the front of the kitchens for elimination.

We file into the booth to the right of the kitchens and watch as the men make their way to the very front. Gordon looks incredulously at the lot of them, obviously unimpressed.

"Men, I trust you've decided on two people for elimination?" Ramsay asks, squinting at the group.

"Yes, Chef," they respond.

"Good. Pietro, your first nomination and why, please," he inquires.

"We decided our first nomination is for Jay. Those mushrooms were harder than rocks and there's no way a discerning chef woulda brought that trash up to you."

Ramsay nods in agreement. "That makes sense. Who's the second nominee, Abel?"

Abel straightens up before speaking,

"Our second nominee, Chef, is for Garrett. You saw him today gaping and standing around doing nothing. That's what he does nearly every service. It's really hard to get him to communicate and when he does it's generally not anything useful."

Red- who was standing to my right- looks especially hopeful at the proposition of Garrett going home. I knew he'd been bothering her ever since he put his arm around her on our ride to Hell's Kitchen.

"Right then, both of you, get up here." He jabs his finger in front of himself.

The two step forward and wait in the spotlight.

Ramsay smooths his bangs out of the way then addresses one of them,

"Garrett, please tell me why you think you deserve to stay in Hell's Kitchen." He crosses his arms as he waits.

"Sir, I'm a hard worker. I have the passion it takes to be here, and I won't let myself fail."

Ramsay laughs, "well you sure did let yourself _fall_."

Garrett looks embarrassed for a second before continuing,

"Chef I know I can do better, please, ya have to give me another chance..."

Ramsay doesn't respond and instead turns to Jay.

"Jay, why do you think you deserve to stay in Hell's Kitchen?" He cocks his head to one side.

"Chef, I know I messed up on those mushrooms and I'm so very sorry, I should have checked them before I brought them up. I won't let you down anymore, anything else you get from me will be perfect, I promise you." He looks determinedly at Chef, but I can see his hands wringing nervously behind his back.

Chef Ramsay brings his finger to his chin for a moment before looking down at the ground, shifting his feet, then looking back up.

"I've made my decision."

Garrett and Jay both look to each other and then back at Ramsay.

"My decision is..." he pauses for a long while. Both the men in front of him fidget, stepping from foot to foot.

Ramsay points to Jay. "Jay, come here. I'm sorry my boy, but you will be leaving Hell's Kitchen. Hand me your jacket."

Jay drops his head and steps forward, removing his jacket.

"I'm sorry, Chef," genuine remorse in his voice.

"I know you are. Unfortunately, the head chef of 'Gordon Ramsay's London Cuisine' must be able to catch these sorts of things before they make it to the pass. Especially when they are as blatant as your mushrooms were. I'm honestly surprised that you crashed so hard on mushrooms, considering your signature dish was a mushroom dish." He takes Jay's jacket then shakes his hand.

"Good luck out there."

"Thank you, Chef," Jay sighs as he pushes open the doors to Hell's Kitchen. Most of the men and a few of the red team shout their goodbyes to him. After a moment, Ramsay speaks up again,

"And then there were five." Ramsay focuses on the blue team, "Listen up gentlemen. You all are getting quite low on team members, so I'm going to do something I haven't done ever in the history of Hell's Kitchen." He brings two fingers to his lips speculatively.

"I'm going to have you all decide which of the red team members you'd like to come over and whip your sorry asses into shape. Usually, this would be the red team's decision, but you boys desperately need some help. Deliberate this afternoon, then tell me what you've decided in the morning."

He then opens his palm and sweeps his arm across the dining room, "and in case you haven't noticed, the dining room is filthy. As today's losers, clean this mess up in here before bed, including the kitchens. Red team, you're welcome to head up to the dorms." He dismisses us.

All of the red team starts talking at once when we make it back to the dorms,

"I can't believe this is happening..." I groan.

"Come on, letting the boys decide something like that? That isn't fair to us!"exclaims Gina.

"It's true, what if they try to bring one of us over just to harass us?" Red nervously wrings her hands together.

"They wouldn't do that, Red." Kalyani rubs her back comfortingly, "There are enough good men on the blue team that they wouldn't let anyone bother whoever gets chosen."

"Surely they'll try to pick someone strong, so they can stay ahead of the game and keep winning challenges," Gail adds.

"I don't like this at all, I love you guys..." Taylor dejectedly looks at the ground.

Bella is the only one of us looking moderately cheery. "I don't know why you all are so eager to stay. I mean, this is an opportunity! Imagine being the only surviving blue team member as a female!" She proudly looks over to where the blue team are deliberating just out of earshot.

"I know at least half of them will want to pick me," she says as her eyes survey their team. "I'm one of the strongest on the red team, so if they do pick me I'm ready to go over there and win."

Honestly, Bella would probably help the red team the most if she was moved over. Not only is she a ticking time bomb for drama, but she also distracts the men so much they'd surely start failing even harder. They might even realize it was Bella causing the issues and kick her out early.

"Yes, Bella, I agree, they should pick you." I nod and she smiles widely at me, obviously not understanding the motives behind my agreement.

We can't do anything but wait for tomorrow. Once we get dressed and slide into our beds, Taylor whispers,

"I hope they don't pick you. I'd miss you in the kitchen."

"I'd miss you too Taylor," I pause, adding, "hopefully they go for Bella."

She sleepily nods before turning off her bedside lamp with a muttered, "goodnight."

"Goodnight, Tay," I murmur back before wrapping myself in my blankets and going to sleep.


	31. The Ole Switcheroo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Find out who's being eliminated in this episode of Hell's Smitten!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In order for my story to take the direction I'm leading it towards, I have to introduce some back story to Y/N, it'll be worth it in the long run, trust me ;3

Tuesday, July 2nd, 2013

First thing in the morning when my eyes open, I think about last night's deceleration from Ramsay. One of us will be switched to the blue team. I shake my head, trying to clear my mind. 

It's an impossible feat. The worry that I'll be switched claws back into my head like a recurring headache. I would absolutely hate to lose any one of my team members... aside from Bella of course. That one shining glint of hope is all that propels me to have the strength to rise from bed and face whatever the boys have decided.

In the common room area, Bella is relaxing on the couch with many of the blue team members- Pietro, Dave and Garrett- trying to chat them up. She's confidently recounting her accolades as a chef, mentioning more than once how much Ramsay enjoyed the flavors of her baked ziti signature dish. 

Funny, I seemed to recall he thought it looked sloppy.

Trying to ignore her distinctive voice, I begin to prepare a breakfast burrito for myself. Just a little scrambled eggs, cheese, ham and spinach should do the trick. While in the process of making my burrito, Gina peers over my shoulder.

"Niiice, that looks goooood!" she eyeballs my burrito's innards, still cooking in the pan.

"Do you want me to make you one?" I ask as I stir the ingredients.

"Would you?" she alights, hopping on her toes, "I'd love that! Thank you! I've just been eating cereal all this time, hah."

"Of course, it only takes five minutes." I take a second pan and crack open another egg.

"You're awesome, thank you, (Y/N)." she beams at me before opening the fridge and pouring herself a glass of milk, "Want some?"

"Sure, just leave it in the fridge until I'm done so it doesn't get warm!" I request. Gina nods as she pours out a glass then sets it in the fridge. 

After a few minutes, I serve our burritos and grab my milk from the fridge.

"This is amazing," she says between mouthfuls with her hand hiding her mouth, indicating her burrito with her fork.

"Thank you, it's actually one of Gordon's recipes from one of his first books," I respond as I gather spilled insides from the burrito into a corner and push it onto my fork.

"You remember his recipes by heart?" she looks at me, egg hanging off the corner of her mouth.

I nod. "Yeah, I do. I've been studying everything he's put out since I was 16. I asked for his cookbooks for my birthday each year," I smile sadly as the memories flood back, "well, at least until my parents died."

She stops eating and puts her fork down slowly.

"They died? How? If you don't mind me asking..." she gives me her rapt attention.

"Car accident. Someone hit them on their way to visit me for the first time at my new apartment. I was twenty-one when it happened, ironically I'd only had my first alcoholic drink a few months earlier."

Gina wipes the egg from her lip with the back of her arm and frowns, "(Y/N), I'm so sorry..."

I hold up a hand and shake my head. "It's alright. I am doing fine on my own," I motion to the room, "I mean, I made it here didn't I? I never gave up, and I'm certainly not going to give up now. I know they'd be proud of me."

Gina smiles sadly and nods. "Yeah, you're doing well. I hope you make it far."

"Thank you Gina, you too." I grin at her, trying to lighten the mood.

Once our burritos are finished, Gina takes the plates and puts them in the dishwasher.

After only ten minutes or so, Sous Chef Christina ascends the stairs and ' _hem-hems_ ' loudly enough for everyone's attention to turn to her. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, Chef Ramsay would like everyone to gather downstairs for the swapping of team members. Come on now, you've had plenty of time to decide on who you want, right boys?" She taps her finger on her arm impatiently while looking at the men.

The blue team members nod and respond, "Yes, Chef."

"Excellent, then come on down!" She bounds down the stairs happily.

Just a few minutes later, we all make it downstairs and line up in the standard formation we'd all gotten used to at this point. Chef Ramsay looks handsome as usual, standing straight and tall at the front of the kitchen.

"Good morning everyone! As you well know, today is the day one of the red team members will be switching to the blue team. Now, blue team, you've come to a consensus?" he asks.

"Yes, Chef," the men respond.

"Right then, Pietro, who have you decided on bringing into the blue team's fold?" he inquires.

Pietro's eyes scan the red team before he takes a deep breath,

"Chef, we spent a long time deliberating. We went over everything we could think of, and it still took a while. But eventually we all came to a conclusion." he pauses.

"Well?" Ramsay asks, tapping his foot.

"Chef, we decided on Kalyani joining our team. She's a hard worker, hasn't made many mistakes and doesn't start trouble. I think we'll really benefit from having her on our team."

All at once, the entire red team turns to look at Kalyani, who looks a bit shocked.

"Alright Kalyani, we'll get your blue jacket to you in just a few minutes. Go on and join the blue team for now. Just so you know, tonight is not an elimination night so just use this time to get used to working with your new team. Help them out in any way you can, and lead them to winning services." He jerks his head towards the blue team and Kalyani follows his motion.

"Excellent everyone. Now, we have prep for service tonight to get through, if you finish early wait in the dorms until I call you down." He ominously looks around the room, "Of course don't take 'no elimination' as a free pass to completely screw up everything. If you fuck up badly enough, I can kick you out at any time. I dare any one of you to test me." he locks eyes with Bella, who drops her eyes to the floor.

"Get to work then, everyone." Ramsay turns from us and heads back to his office.

The red team settles into our normal prep routine, minus Kalyani. Every once in a while I look over to the blue team to try and make eye contact with her, but she's too busy directing the men on the proper way to keep their stations set up. 

Too bad they hadn't exorcised the demon from our team. Bella is banging pots and pans as she moves them around in a vain attempt to express her discontent towards the blue team not picking her.

Just another day in Hell.


	32. The Sixth Dinner Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kalyani warms up to the blue team on tonight's dinner service.

Tuesday, July 2nd, 2013

Our first dinner service without Kalyani is about to begin. Now that the teams are even, the possibility of being assigned to a solo station is much more likely. Gordon quickly goes over our assigned stations- Gina and Red on apps, Gail and Taylor on fish, Bella on garnish and myself flying solo on meats. I feel pride as Chef Ramsay assigns me to such an important station by myself. Hopefully, I'll live up to his expectations.

"The first ticket is coming in, guys!" Ramsay shouts from the pass.

"Three risotto, two Caesar salad one scallops!"

"Yes, Chef!" we respond loudly.

Gina and Red each take a risotto while Gail prepares the scallops.

I check my meats for the tenth time, making sure everything is in place.

Our first order of apps goes up to the pass, and Chef Ramsay sends the food out without a hitch.

Things are going well for our team even without Kalyani, at least so far. I wonder how the blue team is faring with their new member, but the meat station is tucked in the furthest corner of the kitchen so I can't really see anything.

The entrees for the first ticket are called, but there isn't any meat on it. Sighing, I look out over the rest of the kitchen and watch the rest of the chefs work.

"Three risotto two scallops, followed by two Wellington, two New York strip and one cod!"

"Yes, Chef!" I affirm, excited to finally get to be cooking something. I lightly score the wellingtons and brush them over with egg whites before popping them into the oven to cook.

One risotto made by Gina is rejected for not being creamy enough, but other than that the apps go through fairly quickly.

"How long my dear?" he questions me.

"Ten minutes Chef!" I exclaim.

"Wonderful. Everyone keep your times in sync!" He turns back to the pass to plate the blue team's entrees.

I take out my wellingtons and then turn the New York strips, rendering the fat on the sides just as Ramsay had taught me.

Right as the New York strips are finished, the Wellingtons have finished resting. Holding my breath, I cut one of the wellies open... and release my breath as I see that it's perfectly cooked. I am not going to be one of those chefs that brings up something raw just to be berated. Thank goodness my first meat station by myself is going well so far.

I bring up the wellies and the strips, placing them at the pass after letting Chef know I was behind him. He inspects the meat then quickly plates it and sends them out with the waiter. I bounce on my toes excitedly, silently celebrating.

A little while later, Chef Ramsay slams a plate down at the metal end table.

"Everyone, everyone come here!" He slams his hand on the table, "NOW!"

We rush over as fast as we can.

"Taste this risotto. Tell me what's wrong with it."

I grab a spoon and take a bite, immediately my nose crinkles and I feel a tickle at the back of my throat.

"Chef, it has too much pepper. Way too much," I say, stifling the urge to sneeze.

"Right you are. We're trying to give them a delicious dinner not give them an hour long sneezing fit. Gina, Mary, get it together!"

"Yes, Chef! Sorry, Chef!" Both of the ladies on apps bow their heads as they re-make one risotto. 

Bella sneers at Red and Gina and looks like she wants to say something, but Gordon speaks up before she can give a snide remark.

"Taste your fucking food before you send it up. I'm going to have to drink a gallon of water before my taste buds go back to normal."

Ramsay then calls over a waiter who's delivering drinks and takes a glass of water from his tray for himself, downing it in a few seconds.

I notice Red and Gina bickering over who was the one to over-pepper the risotto, but neither one of them claims responsibility. Eventually, Red holds up her hand and nods her head towards Chef Ramsay, stopping Gina from continuing the conversation before they get too overheated. Red doesn't want to stir up any issues, and with good reason. No one wants to get pulled into the back room for a tongue lashing from Chef Ramsay.

 _Well, except maybe myself, but that'd be a different sort of tongue lashing_... I duck my head, trying to scour my mind clean once again.

Finally, we reach the end of dinner service. From my back corner, I didn't get the chance to see how the blue kitchen had done, but none of them seem too upset when we line up at the end of the day.

Chef Ramsay looks to and from both teams before he claps his hands.

"Right, well. We finished the service, so that's something. Kalyani, did you settle in well?"

"Yes, Chef. We work well together," Kalyani responds, nodding.

"Excellent. I didn't notice any issues from you Kalyani, but I would like to request that Gina, Mary, Garrett, and Dave all start to actually taste the food you prepare before you bring it up. I shouldn't have to be explaining the basics to you at our sixth dinner service, yeah?"

"Sorry, Chef..." the people who'd been called out all respond.

"Today's winner of dinner service..." he pauses, "the blue team. Congratulations everyone, go on and get some food in your bellies and get some rest. As for the red team, please clean up the kitchens before you go back to the dorms. Tomorrow will be an elimination day, so be on your best behavior and learn from your mistakes today. Now piss off." He waves us off.

Cleaning the kitchen is second nature to me now, I barely even register what I'm doing until everyone starts to head back to the dorms.

After I prepare and eat a grilled cheese for dinner, I head to the dorms. Kalyani is already in bed when the rest of us join, waking up only momentarily to smile at us before she drifts back to sleep. I curl up in bed, wrapping the covers around myself, wondering what surprises tomorrow will hold.


	33. Foreign Cuisine Head to Head Part 1/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our first head to head challenge! Let's hope our MC does well!

Wednesday, July 3rd, 2013

The next morning at around 6 am, Sous Chefs Christina and Scott's voices both echo loudly through the dorms.

"Wakey wakey!" shouts Christina.

"Up and at'em!" Scott yells.

I rub my eyes and sit up in bed, kicking my covers off.

Today is yet another elimination day, and more than likely the challenge difficulty is only going to increase. I brush my hair and change quickly into my chef's jacket.

In the common area, Taylor motions for me to join her at the bar table. I scoot out a bar stool and sit next to her. She slides me a plate of toast with scrambled eggs and smiles.

"I thought you could use some food before we go downstairs. Chef Scott said we have ten minutes before he and Christina went back to the kitchens." She then digs into her own plate voraciously.

"Thank you, Taylor!" I grin at her and she nods, her eyes still locked onto the food in front of her. I have to admit, whenever Taylor gets focused she really goes all out, even when it comes to eating.

After a short while, both of us finish our food and fly down the stairs. Eventually, all of us are lined up in the usual fashion.

Chef Ramsay emerges from his office and flits down the stairs gracefully. He stops in front of us with a wide smile on his face. I always love seeing him like this, he's so effervescent when he's happy, the joy travels straight into his eyes and leaves a twinkle there.

"Good morning everyone!"

"Good morning, Chef!" we respond.

"We're going to be having one of my favorite challenges today, but this time it's going to have a twist..." He opens his arms.

From both sides of the kitchen, men and women dressed in waiter outfits push out trolleys with silver domed platters on them. In total there are twelve different domes on four trolleys.

"Today's challenge is going to be a foreign cuisine challenge. But not only that, it will be a versus challenge as well! Now, I'll need you all to select your competition from the opposite team." He goes silent as he waits for us to pair up.

I examine the blue team carefully. I don't know much about how good each chef is aside from the challenges we've participated in together since I haven't spent time one-on-one with any of them.

Dave and Bella have both already paired up, smiling at each other as they bump shoulders. I wonder if they've... 'paired up' in other ways too. I wouldn't put it past Bella, but she'd have to be really brave to do anything while there's a camera in every corner.

Kalyani and Gail are the second already-determined pairing. They both had a bit of a friendly rivalry going on during Kalyani's time in the red kitchen and it seems they are eager to have a chance for Chef Ramsay to tell them who is truly the best out of the both of them.

That leaves Pietro, Shaun, Abel and Garrett open for pairs.

Pietro would definitely be a challenge if he draws any country that utilizes pasta. I knew for sure that he'd have a good chance of winning if he happens to get Italy, considering that I've heard him bragging about how he hasn't used pre-packaged noodles since he was in college.

Shaun is always quiet. I rarely hear anything from Ramsay about him at the pass, good or bad. He's a mystery to me. Picking him to go against would be like drawing a wild card.

Abel, on the other hand, has only received praise from Ramsay. In fact, his signature dish was definitely one of Chef Ramsay's favorites. Plus, he'd already beaten me before in the fish filet challenge by one measly point. If I pick him I'd be giving myself the biggest challenge, and a chance at redemption.

Lastly, Garrett. I'd feel terrible if Red were left to pick him just because she isn't assertive enough to pair up with anyone. Garrett does seem to be a weak competitor though and I don't want to give myself an easy out.

As I am pondering, Pietro and Gina pair up, leaving only Shaun, Abel and Garrett.

Unfolding my arms that had been tightly crossed against my chest as I considered my options, I approach Abel.

"Abel, would you like to go head-to-head versus me?" I ask.

He swiftly looks down at me, a thin smile appearing on his lips.

"I was hoping you'd ask. You're strong, and I'd like the chance to beat you." He shifts his shoulders back and steps gracefully next to me, moving with the body control of a dancer.

Much to my surprise, I see Red approach Garrett on her own accord.

"Garrett, let's go against each other," she says simply.

"Sure thing, Red. I'm excited to see what you can do." He towers over her as he responds, obviously insinuating something else with his words.

She surprises me even further by not bothering to respond. Instead, she places her hands together behind her back and stands about a foot away from Garrett, whose eyes are still roving over her small frame.

That leaves Shaun and Taylor to pair last. Taylor shrugs as she wordlessly approaches Shaun and stands beside him. He nods to her in greeting but otherwise says nothing.

"Pairs all figured out?" Ramsay asks.

"Yes, Chef," we reply.

"Excellent. Could the first pair, please approach the front."

Bella and Dave both approach Chef Ramsay.

"You both will decide on one platter lid to lift. Go on now and stand by the one you want, but wait for my cue to lift it," Chef Ramsay directs them.

The two chefs move directly for the furthest platter to the left. Bella rests her hand on the dome of the platter.

Ramsay moves two fingers up through the air, signaling them to lift the lid.

Inside there are two flags. Bella and Dave each take a flag and wave them. I don't recognize the country.

"Indonesia! Excellent, a fantastic country with delicious food. Next two chefs, please."

Kalyani and Gail both step up to the center platter in the far row.

Gordon signals for them to lift the lid and both chefs hold up flags and wave them, smiling.

Italy, I definitely know this flag!

"Ohh, lovely, Italy! I bet Pietro's a bit jealous, eh?" Ramsay looks over to Pietro, who dejectedly snaps his fingers.

"Next two, please."

Pietro and Gina ponder a few different domes before deciding on one in the front middle.

Ramsay signals for the lid to be lifted and both Chefs wave their flags.

China!

"Oh boy, China, what a wide variety of delicious food you'll have to work with." Gordon smiles at the two who head back to the line, still holding their flags.

"Next two!" He claps.

Abel and I go together towards the back row. We struggle to decide between two, but finally pick the one next to the platter that had held Indonesia's flag.

Gordon signals for us to lift the lid.

Inside are two flags, the flag for Germany.

We lift our flags and wave them, Gordon nods to us.

"Nicely done, Germany. A hearty people with even heartier food."

We step back in line and I hold my flag to my chest.

I'd studied all types of cuisine before I came here just to be ready for this part, so I do have some knowledge of German cuisine. Hopefully, it'll be enough to beat Abel. He looks much too serene right now. He turns to lock eyes with me and waves his flag a little. I wave mine back, unable to stop myself from smiling a bit. At least if he is better than I am he likely won't try to rub it in my face like I know some other contestants would love to do.

"Next two, chop chop!"

Red and Garrett both approach the domes. Garrett seems determined to select a dome from the far right center row. Red seems to have wanted to go for a platter on the left, but shrugs as she goes towards the platter Garrett gravitated towards.

They lift the dome at the same time Gordon signals for them to.

Red raises her flag over her head and waves it, a huge smile on her face. Garrett looks perturbed as he waves his flag with much less vigor.

"Ireland! You're from Ireland, aren't you Mary?" Gordon inquires.

"Yes sir I am, my family is at least. But I grew up on mam's cooking." She skips back into line happily.

Hopefully, her clear enthusiasm means we've got at least one point in the bag!

Final two Chefs, lets hurry shall we!" Ramsay moves his hand towards himself in a 'come on' motion.

Taylor and Shaun quickly head towards a dome directly one from the left in the middle row.

When Gordon signals, they lift the dome and raise their flags.

"India! We have an excellent array of flavors to try. Go on and gather your ingredients, everyone. You will have forty-five minutes to make up one stunning dish that embodies the country you're holding the flag of. Good luck!"

With that, he waves us off. All of us rush into the kitchen's pass, looking for our countries food. I head straight towards Germany.

From what I'd studied, Germans are a lot like the rest of us in our love of potatoes. I know I have to make a potato side to go with whatever I choose as my main dish. Abel seems to know exactly what he wants, taking pork and mushrooms into the blue kitchen. I grab a half pound of pork and a half pound of beef, an idea forming in my mind. It'll be a dangerous one to start considering the cooking time is exactly as long as we have to complete our dishes. I'll just have to hope it works. I take the rest of the ingredients and rush towards my station.

I've decided to make potato pancakes as my side dish, with my main dish being German meatballs in white sauce.

I chop enough onions for both dishes, then set half of the onions in a pan to cook with a tablespoon of butter. While the onions cook, I skin potatoes for the pancakes then grate them into a cheesecloth, straining the water off them then mixing the grated potatoes with the uncooked onions, pepper, salt, and two eggs.

After my onions are golden, I take them off the burner and set them in a separate bowl from the grated potatoes. I add the meats to the bowl along with two slices of wet bread to bind the meatballs. Finally, I add one egg yolk, salt and pepper then mix it together carefully before rolling out twelve meatballs.

I pull out three pans. One for my meatballs, one for the sauce and one for my potato pancakes.

I place the meatballs into one pan along with beef broth, cracked peppercorns, and a bay leaf and leave it to cook.

"Twenty-five minutes remaining!" Gordon's voice comes in loudly over the sound of searing meat and boiling water.

There should be juuust enough time...

After ten minutes of cooking the meatballs, I take them out of the pan and strain the broth they were cooked in.

Now I start on the sauce for them to finish in.

Two tablespoons of butter and some flour make a fine roux. I slowly whisk one and a half cups worth of broth from the meatballs into the roux. Finally, I add capers, white wine, lemon juice and sour cream to the sauce then drop the meatballs in to complete cooking and absorb the delicious smelling sauce.

I'd been keeping the oil for the potato pancakes on medium for a while and only just turned it up to high a few minutes ago so the oil is very hot. I drop the potato pancake mixture into the hot oil and watch it carefully before flipping it once it hits that perfect golden brown.

"Two minutes left, get plating everyone!" Ramsay reminds us.

Finally, my potato pancakes are done, I plate my meatballs and sauce then fan three potato pancakes outside the meatballs. Finally, I sprinkle some chives on top and set my plate at the pass.

Chef Ramsay looks giddy as he finishes counting our time.

"Three... two... one! Stop!" He looks around at us all. I've done all I could do, now all I can do is wait to be judged. I swallow nervously.

I really, really hope the red team can pull a win out of this.


	34. Foreign Cuisine Head to Head Part 2/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epic conclusion to our foreign cuisine challenge! Looks like the challenges are really starting to ramp up, eh? ;D

Wednesday, July 3rd, 2013

There is a glint in Chef Ramsay's eye that tells me he's got something up his sleeve.

"I hope you all made something amazing because I'm not the only one who's going to be judging your dishes today." Ramsay smiles widely.

Yep, there it is!

Gordon looks to the door. "Please welcome this renown chef with one of the longest-running cooking shows in all of Asia, Chef Sanjeev Kapoor!"

We all clap along with Chef Ramsay as Chef Kapoor enters Hell's Kitchen, waving at us before taking his place aside Ramsay.

"Our second chef who will be helping me judge your dishes is one of the most well-known chefs in the world. He has authored fourteen different cookbooks and the possessor of two Michelin stars. Please join me in welcoming Chef Charlie Trotter!"

We clap once more as Chef Trotter slides into the chair next to Chef Kapoor. Unfortunately, I only just barely know these chef's names. I'd only ever studied Chef Ramsay's work. Otherwise, I'm sure I'd be more starstruck right now like a few of my teammates. Kalyani is practically beaming at Chef Kapoor, and I'd heard Gina squeal as Chef Trotter opened the doors.

"Now, both chefs are incredibly skilled with all sorts of food, so we'll be tasting your dishes and judging them on three factors; taste, presentation and if the dish embodies your chosen country or not. Each chef will pick their favorite dish of the two and whichever team has more winning dishes will win the challenge." His eyes scan over all of us. "let's see Indonesia!"

Dave and Bella both walk their dishes up. Chef Ramsay gestures to Dave's dish.

"What have you made for us, Dave?"

Dave pushes his plate forward and Chef Kipoor inspects it closely.

"Chefs, today I've made an oxtail soup with chili rice on the side. I haven't studied much Indonesian food but when I saw that oxtail I knew what I had to do." He puts his hands on his hips as he waits, leaning forward.

Each chef tries the dish, then Ramsay addresses Chef Trotter.

"Charlie, what do you think?"

Chef Charlie Trotter isn't much older than Chef Ramsay but shows his age much more. His hair has flecks of grey and he pushes his glasses up further on his nose before he speaks.

"The soup was nice. I tasted a hint of lemongrass, which is a traditional Indonesian ingredient. Overall quite nice."

Ramsay then turns to the Chef directly next to him.

"What did you think, Chef Kipoor?"

"The meat was well cooked and the nutmeg in the soup helped to cover some of the gamey taste. Well done." He nods then watches Chef Ramsay.

"I thought it was quite good. The rice was a little under-cooked but the chili flavor on top blended well with the flavors of the soup. Right. Bella, what have you made for us?"

Bella pushes her plate forward towards the Chefs.

"Today I've made a fried duck meal with Indonesian fried rice on the side." She curtsies as she steps back, eliciting a grin from Chef Trotter.

After each chef tries the meal, Ramsay asks Charlie for his opinion.

"I always love a fried duck, and that's definitely an Indonesian recipe, but it feels like your spices fell flat in both the rice and the duck itself. Indonesians aren't afraid to put flavor in their food."

Chef Kipoor nods.

"Indeed your problem was definitely lack of flavor. You did well cooking the duck, though."

Chef Ramsay clasps his hands together.

"It is true. The duck is beautifully cooked, but you've not seasoned it properly. Chef Trotter, your opinion on the winner?"

"Chef Ramsay, I'm going to have to go with the blue team."

Chef Kipoor nods his agreement. "Oh yes, the blue team blew me away."

Chef Ramsay tilts his head. "I would have gone with the blue team as well, but my opinion isn't really necessary now is it? The point goes to the blue team!"

Dave happily gets back in line with the rest of the blue team. Bella shoots him a dirty look, but he doesn't notice as he joyfully receives praise from his team.

"Next up, Italy! Come on Gina and Kalyani."

The two former teammates approach the table of judges.

"Kalyani, would you go first please, my dear?" he asks.

Kalyani pushes her plate forward.

"Chefs, I made a traditional Italian carbonara with bacon, peas and a lovely sauce."

"Are your noodles freshly made?" Chef Trotter asks.

Kalyani shakes her head.

"I'm sorry Chef, we only had forty-five minutes to work, I was afraid the noodles might not turn out right if I tried to rush them."

Chef Trotter nods before trying the dish. He passes the dish down until everyone has tried some. Chef Trotter then speaks up without waiting for Ramsay's cue.

"It really was good, but the noodles were disappointing. I just wish you'd made them fresh if you want to call it a 'traditional' dish."

Kipoor agrees. "Yeah, Kalyani, it was good but the pasta just didn't do it justice."

Kalyani looks extra upset at Chef Kipoor's review of her pasta and hangs her head.

Chef Ramsay shrugs. "What everyone else said. It was good, but the pasta just wasn't..." he pinches his index and middle finger to his thumb in the air, "fresh and smooth enough, you know?"

Kalyani sighs and takes her dish back. Gail pushes hers forward.

"I've made a Parmesan and truffle risotto for you all. I hope you enjoy."

Each chef tries a bite before Chef Trotter smiles.

"It was lovely, Gail. Just lovely. I thoroughly enjoy any dish with truffle."

Chef Kipoor agrees, smacking his lips. "It was so rich and creamy while the truffle just added the perfect amount of earthiness to it. Amazing."

Chef Ramsay wipes his mouth with a napkin before smiling at Gail.

"If only all the risottos we make in the kitchen would turn out that lovely. Everyone, who's do you prefer?"

"Gail's dish, for sure," Chef Trotter says matter-of-factly.

"Mmhm, Gail. I agree." Chef Kipoor nods.

"And that makes three. Another sweep, but this time for the red team. Let's see the dishes for China, please."

Pietro and Gina bring up their dishes.

"Pietro please, what have you made for us?" Ramsay asks.

"Chinese eggplant with a spicy garlic sauce, sirs." Pietro pushes the plate forward.

Each chef tries some before Chef Ramsay asks for their opinion.

"It looks great Pietro, the colors are definitely there. Well done on the sauce." Chef Trotter gestures to the plate as he praises it.

Chef Kipoor looks at the plate once more before he speaks up.

"I'm not generally one for eggplant dishes but if I were to choose to eat one, I'd pick this one. Excellent work."

Chef Ramsay runs his fingers across his chin before nodding. "Yes, it was quite good Pietro. Now, Gina, what have you made?"

Gina hands her dish over and smiles at Chef Trotter for a moment before responding,

"Chefs, I've made a honey garlic chicken with rice."

As before, each chef tries a bite.

"You've done well on the balance between honey and garlic, well done indeed," Ramsay says before any of the other chefs cut in.

"Yes, excellent work on the flavors. The rice is cooked to perfection too. Nice work." Chef Trotter smiles at her.

Chef Kipoor nods. "The flavors were definitely there. I just wish the rice had something else in it to brighten the colors."

Chef Ramsay addresses Chef Trotter,

"Which dish will you vote for, Chef?"

He mulls over it for a moment.

"I think I'm going to have to go with Gina's honey garlic chicken."

Gina bounces in place happily.

"Alright, and Chef Kipoor, your opinion?" Ramsay asks.

"I'm going to say Pietro's dish was just a bit prettier than Gina's. Sorry, Gina." He shrugs.

"Hmmm, in order to break the tie, I'm going to have to go with..." Ramsay pauses as he does nearly every time he has us in suspense as if he senses the moment.

"Pietro. I'm sorry Gina, the rice not having anything in it was the deciding factor for me. Better luck next time, yeah? Alright, up next I'll need to see my Germany dishes please!"

I take hold of my plate and bring it to the front. Abel and I arrive at the same time and set down our dishes on the black pedestals on either side of the judges' table. From what little I can see of his dish, it's absolutely beautiful.

"(Y/N), please explain your dish?" Chef Ramsay urges me.

"Of course. Today I've made German meatballs in white sauce with crispy potato pancakes on the side." I hand the plate over.

Each chef tries the dish and I wait eagerly for a response.

"It was great, (Y/N). The potato pancakes just needed a little bit more time, I think. But it was still delicious." Chef Trotter nods at me.

"Yes, excellently done (Y/N)," says Chef Kipoor. "I'd never had a dish like this before but you've definitely made me want to try it again sometime!"

Finally, the only Chef who's opinion I truly care for speaks up.

"The meatballs," he pauses, "delicious, appetizing and seasoned perfectly." He uses his fork to push a potato pancake through the sauce, then cuts into it and takes a second bite. "The potatoes are perfectly crisp on the outside, but a bit soft on the inside. However, your presentation is lovely. Abel will have a difficult time topping this one." Chef Ramsay's lips curl into a smile.

I take my plate back, the fact that Ramsay enjoyed my dish gives me great hope. Stifling a smile, I set the plate down. Now all I need is for Abel's dish to not be as tasty as it looks.

"Abel, what have you made for us today?" Chef Ramsay leans forward to look.

Abel hands the dish over. "I've made a mushroom pork roulade. I've also made sauerkraut for the side. When I studied in Germany, we learned these recipes and I took them to heart. Please enjoy."

Studied in Germany?! He never mentioned that! Well, that isn't quite fair now is it... I huff slightly, trying to remain optimistic.

Each chef tries a bite.

I can see I've lost already in Chef Trotter's opinion. He goes for a second bite, humming slightly as he tastes it.

"Absolutely magnificent, Abel. Chef Ramsay was telling me you were promising, and this confirms it for me. This is the best dish I've had so far!" He beams at Abel, who gives a small smile.

Chef Kipoor places his fork down. "Amazing, Abel. The pork was tender and delicious, which is difficult to accomplish when it's so thin."

Chef Ramsay's blond bangs bounce as he nods at Abel. "Yes, it was quite good. The sauerkraut is crafted exquisitely and the flavors taste very harmonious. Chefs, your opinion on the winner?"

"Abel." both chefs say at the same moment. I look down at my dish.

"I know it doesn't matter to win any points, but I enjoyed your dish thoroughly, (Y/N)," Ramsay says kindly, drawing my eyes up from my plate. When our eyes meet, I see a soft warmth behind his gaze that gives me butterflies in my chest. I have to look back down at my plate before I betray too much emotion for the entire world to see on TV.

"Thank you, Chef," I say, managing not to stutter as I hesitantly make eye contact with him again.

He gives me a small smile before Abel and I walk back to our team.

"Next up, Ireland!" Chef Ramsay claps his hands together as Red and Garrett approach.

"Let's go with your dish, Garrett. Tell us what you've made," Chef Ramsay says.

"Chefs, I made uh, an Irish seafood chowder."

He sends the plate forward to the first chef.

Soon after the Chefs have each tried the dish, Ramsay asks for Chef Trotter's opinion.

"It definitely was a seafood chowder, and I know they make chowder in Ireland, but it just didn't feel that Irish to me. I don't know." He shrugs.

Chef Kipoor follows up with his review, "The chowder was good, I just wish you had something else paired with it. A potato of some sort, or a carrot side dish, or something."

Chef Ramsay turns to Garrett. "Yes, it was cooked well but it was lacking something. Hopefully, Mary's dish will not disappoint. What have you made for us?"He turns to Red now, waiting.

She hands the dish over. "Chefs, I've made something my mother always used to make me- Lemon parsley baked cod with Irish potatoes. The potatoes also have a bit of cabbage mixed in with them."

Each chef tries the dish, then Chef Trotter speaks up.

"Now this is what I'm hoping for when I ask for Irish cuisine. Well done, Mary."

"It was very Irish, Mary. Though I expect you had some luck in drawing your home country, did you not?" Chef Kipoor asks.

"Oh yeah, I mean, my family is from Ireland but I moved to the US when I was four so I don't really remember much." She smiles happily at them both.

"Well, Ireland certainly seems to have followed you here!" Chef Ramsay chuckles. "Can I assume everyone's votes?"

Both of the other chefs nod at Gordon.

"Well done, Mary. A point for your team. Now, let's see our final two dishes. India, please step forward."

Shaun and Taylor come forward with their dishes.

"Taylor, what have you made for us?" Ramsay asks.

"Chef, I've made Rava Dosas with potato chickpea masala. I don't know many Indian dishes, but this one I was sure to learn the recipe for after trying it once in a restaurant."

Each chef tries some of her dish.

Chef Trotter pushes the plate back before speaking.

"It was truly delicious. Flaky, with just the right amount of filling. I love a good crepe, they are hard to pull off. Well done."

Chef Kipoor follows up, "Yes, crepes are hard and you managed to do very well. It tastes just like what I would get back home."

Chef Ramsay hands her back her plate.

"It was excellent Taylor. Now, Shaun, what do you have to dazzle us with?" Gordon asks.

"I've made shrimp poached in coconut milk with fresh herbs." He slides the plate over.

After each chef finishes the final plate, Chef Trotter speaks up.

"It was lacking flavor, honestly. I enjoyed the sweetness of the coconut milk but other than that it was too bland."

Chef Kipoor nods. "I might have just been spoiled by the dish from beforehand, but this dish just doesn't give me the same excitement of the taste buds."

Chef Ramsay hands the plate back shrugging. "It seems that we have a clear winner. Taylor, well done. With that, the red team pulls through with a clean victory!"

Taylor smiles widely as she takes her plate back into line.

"But we're not done yet!" Ramsay steeples his fingers before continuing, "we need to decide on the best dish out of all of them. A picture of the dish will be the cover of the renowned magazine 'Food and Wine'! On top of that, the recipe for the chosen dish will get its own full page!"

Chef Ramsay excitedly promotes the prize like a tv show host, spurring all of us into daydreaming about being the potential winner.

"And finally," Gordon continues, "the Chef who made the selected dish will be listed in the annual 'Top Ten Best New Chefs of 2013' article within the magazine! Now, judges, who's dish really stands out the most to you?"

Each Chef ponders for a moment.

Chef Kipoor speaks up first.

"Of all the dishes, I have to say Abel's was the most beautifully put together as well as the tastiest. I'll have to give the point to him."

Chef Trotter purses his lips for a moment before speaking, "Yes, it's a tough one, but I have to go with Abel as well. It was just a truly magnificent meal."

Chef Ramsay thanks both the chefs before turning back to us. "Well done, Abel! Though your team has lost, you will be spared from the punishment and will join the ladies on their reward as well as getting yourself and your recipe in 'Food and Wine' magazine! Congrats! Let's all thank our judges for coming out, shall we?"

We all wave and shout 'thank you's to them as they exit the building.

"Now the girls are finally pulling in to a win once more! Sorry, Kalyani, you and the rest of the boys will be cleaning up the kitchens and prepping for tonight's menu. Please have it all ready for when we get back, yes?" The men plus Kalyani groan but nod their agreement.

"Now, Abel and ladies of the red team, you are in for a treat. Not only is Abel going to be in 'Food and Wine', we all are! We will spend today at a photo shoot, and then follow up with eating out at Nobu, a premier restaurant right here in Los Angeles. Congrats once again everyone, bring your chef's jackets and don't worry about looking nice for the picture- each and every one of you will be getting a makeover for our centerfold in the magazine." He smiles at us all.

"Go on, shoo, get ready, then! Your limo is leaving in ten minutes!" Chef Ramsay says as he jovially waves us up the stairs.


	35. Photoshoot!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordon and MC get their photo taken together!

Wednesday, July 3rd, 2013

The red team runs up to our dorms, Abel trailing behind us. I brush my teeth and wonder to myself what sort of clothes they'll dress us up in for the photoshoot.

This is crazy, not only am I in Hell's Kitchen, but I'm also going to be in a famous magazine- with Chef Ramsay! How many other chefs would kill to be in my position? I gleefully jitter with excitement thinking about everyone seeing me in a centerfold standing with the Gordon Ramsay. If only they knew what else we'd gotten up to while I've been here, oh I know it'd blow up the tabloids for sure. I can feel my cheeks heating up even just thinking about him laying me down on that desk, his fingers roaming across my bare skin tantalizingly, his hot breath on my neck...

"(Y/N) are you ready?" Taylor hooks her arm through mine as I'm spitting my toothpaste into the sink, surprising me.

"Uh, yeah! Sorry, let's go," I sputter, following Taylor as she pulls me through the room.

We all go downstairs where Jean-Phillipe leads us to the double doors, opening one side for us to step through. The now-familiar Hell's Kitchen limo waits for us outside with Gordon holding open the door for us, wearing his crisp head chef jacket.

Taylor only removes her arm from mine when we make it to the limo. Ramsay takes my hand and helps me into the limo with a small smile. I don't have a chance to smile back before Bella enters the limo behind me and blocks my view. Gordon slides in last, this time next to Red. She tries to scoot away from him to give him space but ends up mushing herself against the window of the limo. Gordon notices and slides away from her, taking her arm and pulling her from the side so she's comfortably sitting once more.

With Taylor on one side of me and Bella on the other, we ride through the busy streets of Los Angeles. Gordon talks to us all about the magazine, how prestigious it is to be included in it and how we can all surely use this on our resumes if we aren't chosen as the winner. Bella laps up his every word, nodding agreement and leaning forward towards him as if she is trying to show off her chest. Fortunately, the chef's jackets we wear are really conservative so nothing really shows. After thirty minutes we arrive at a wide brick building nestled on a street corner.

Chef Ramsay exits first and holds the door for us, helping us out once more. As I am exiting, Ramsay squeezes my hand. I find myself wishing he'd pass me another note... I'm dying not only to be with him but just to talk to him. There's so much I still don't know and the free time we have together is so rare it feels like I'll never get answers to all my questions. I stand near him as the rest of the red team is helped out.

When Abel is about to exit the vehicle he politely waves away Chef Ramsay's hand and gets out on his own.

The door to the building opens and a tall woman with a clipboard and brown horn-rimmed glasses stands at the entrance. Chef Ramsay approaches her with a greeting and kisses her cheeks while she does the same to him. I know that's a common greeting where Chef Ramsay is from, but it does spark a little jealousy in the pit of my stomach. I wonder to myself how his wife deals with her man being so desirable, surely I can't be the only one he's used her permission to... _be_ with. Not that I have any say in what he does, honestly, I'm just lucky to have even been in his eyesight much less underneath him.

The woman leads us into the building, through the modern-art filled lobby and then into a room that has been outfitted for our shoot. There are racks of clothing to the side of the room, and the woman asks us to wait by the side for her assistants.

After a minute, five women and two men filter into the room, makeup kits tied around their waists.

One of the women stops in front of me, smiling. She sort of looks like Bella, which causes me to internally grimace. Fortunately, her attitude is the polar opposite.

"Hey, girl! You're (Y/N), right? I'm really excited to be working with you." She takes my elbow and turns me towards the racks of clothing. The other contestants all seem to have been paired with their own stylist. Ramsay stands in the corner of the room, watching us all steadily between his conversation with the woman who had led us inside.

"Chef Ramsay told me your size so I got a bunch of nice things all ready here. First, we're gonna take a picture with you, the other chefs and Chef Ramsay in your jackets and then you'll take a few pictures in a dazzling new outfit. Let's go ahead and pick something so I can get it ready for you while you get your makeup done and take your first pictures." She starts flicking through the hangars. "Do you have any suggestions on what you'd like to wear? I know some women prefer suits rather than dresses."

"Oh, a dress is fine. I'm not very knowledgeable about fashion or clothing so I'll leave that up to your expert opinion." I smile at her and she shoots me a wide smile back.

After a minute or two of searching, she pulls out two dresses from the stand. One is a simple red dress with a white belt across the stomach. The second is a gunmetal grey dress with ruffled ends.

She holds up the red dress to me while humming, then holds up the grey dress. I feel eyes watching me and look up to see Chef Ramsay examining me over the top of the clothing rack. He looks especially appreciative of the grey dress, so I reach out to stop her as she's about to take it away from me.

"I think this one will work, miss..."

"It's Elaine dear! And really? Are you sure? There are a lot more we can try on." She gestures to the dresses on the rack.

Ramsay's eyes are still on me while the horn-rimmed glasses woman chats away at his shoulder obliviously. He's holding his elbow in his other hand in front of him and has his finger curled against his chin speculatively. He grins at me when he sees me stop the dress from being taken. This will be the one I wear for the pictures, for sure.

"Yes, ma'am this is the one."

She takes the dress and folds it over her arm. "I'll hang this up, come follow me and we'll work on your makeup and while you're getting your photos done I'll pick out some shoes for you to wear with the dress. Go on and take off your jacket so we don't get anything on it."

I follow her lead until she comes to the front of a makeup dresser, fitted with a gold-rimmed mirror. A black chair sits in front of the dresser, awaiting me. Brushes are set in cups on the dresser and various makeup supplies are scattered on the desk. Elaine turns the tall black chair towards me and pats the seat. I hand her my jacket and sit down.

Sliding into place, I curl my hands into my lap. This will be my first time ever having a makeover. I am usually too lazy to even put on eyeliner in the morning, much less do up my whole face.

"Go easy on the makeup, alright? I'm not used to it and I don't want to scare myself by looking like a different person," I ask.

"Of course dear, I don't want you to be uncomfortable in your own skin!" She laughs as she dabs a makeup brush into a pallet and gets to work on my face.

I watch carefully as she does up my makeup. It's kind of amazing that makeup does what it does. I see my blemishes disappear and my eyes appear brighter as she does her magic to me. Thankfully I can still recognize myself when she finishes up after twenty minutes of feeling the ticklish makeup brush glide across my skin.

Right as Elaine finishes I hear Ramsay's voice.

"Ladies and gentle- _man_ ," he claps his hands together, "please welcome Dana Cowen, editor-in-chief of 'Food and Wine' magazine! She wanted to come and say a few words so please listen in."

Dana has curly short dark hair and red lipstick and stands proudly next to Gordon as she speaks.

"Thank you so much for coming to be in my magazine, we're so happy to have the best and brightest from Hell's Kitchen here with us today. Have a great time everyone and enjoy your new outfits on the house!" She waves at us then turns to Ramsay to shake his hand before going back through a set of thick wooden doors at the far corner of the room.

Now that Dana has said her piece, the makeup artists all help us out of our chairs.

Taylor walks over to me, her curly hair neatly resting on her shoulders.

"It's pretty awesome to have someone properly care for my curls, they've been so neglected recently." She pouts playfully as she cups her curls in one palm and bounces them up and down.

Smiling, I give her a quick pat on the back before Elaine pushes Taylor and I towards the large white photo stage.

The woman with the horn-rimmed glasses starts positioning us. Chef Ramsay is at the back center, of course. Abel is to his right, the only blue jacket in a sea of red. The woman tries to position me to the far right when Gordon speaks up.

"Miss Lina, would you mind if (Y/N) was more towards the center, her and Abel have been in a sort of rivalry and it'd be fun to have that play out in the magazine as well. That won't be a problem, will it?" He cocks his head to the side.

"Oh, no, of course, I didn't know is all. Come, dear." She takes my arm and leads me until I'm directly to the left of Chef Ramsay. My breath catches in my throat as I look up at him, and I nearly choke on my tongue as he wraps his arm around my shoulders. He puts his other arm around Abel's shoulders and pulls me even closer to him.

I have absolutely no idea how I'm supposed to not appear incredibly flustered in the picture as I feel my side against Chef Ramsay's warm torso. I should have asked for more makeup. Maybe people will just think my face being red is due to overdone blush.

"Come on now everyone, smile for me! On the count of three, shout 'Hell's Kitchen'!" Lina counts down with her fingers as well as verbally.

"Three, two, one..."

"Hell's Kitchen!" we all say as the camera flashes a few times.

After the photo, everyone starts milling about. Chef Ramsay releases my shoulder and my lungs tingle as I finally am able to breathe somewhat normally.

We all walk off the photo stage and are directed towards our makeup artists.

"Come with me, (Y/N), you've got a private room in which to change and I've set out a few pairs of heels and flats for you to try on while you're in there." Elaine takes me through the large wooden doors that Diane had exited through and leads me through a long hallway until we approach a door with my name taped to it.

"Not exactly a gold star nameplate, but you're well on your way to one working with a celeb chef like Ramsay," Elaine jokes while I walk into the room.

"Ten minutes to get changed and ready. I'll come to get you when the stage is prepared." She gives me a thumbs up and closes the door.

I quickly change into my dress and sit down in a chair to try on a few of the shoes.

The door opens after a mere two minutes have passed. My eyes flick to the door just as I hear it close and lock behind me.

Gordon Ramsay stands with his arms crossed, grinning ear to ear. Now he's dressed in a dark blue suit with a black tie and white undershirt. Anything he wears looks amazing on him, so I'm not surprised that he looks strikingly handsome yet again.

"Hello, beautiful. That dress looks astounding on you," he flirts, his voice low.

I drop the shoe that I was holding in my hand and rush to him, wrapping my arms around him. "Gordon!!" I exclaim, almost too loudly.

He laughs and holds me, enveloping me in a hug.

"I miss being alone with you." He looks down at me and uses a finger to push my hair behind my ear, then trails it along my cheek until it reaches my chin. He tilts my chin and raises my face, pulling me up on my toes to reach him. His eyes fill with tender warmth as I meet his gaze. When his lips lock onto mine, their smooth softness catches me by surprise. His other hand tightens around my waist, pulling me even closer against him. We kiss for a minute straight while silent, passionate emotion fills the air between us.

When he and I separate, I respond breathlessly.

"I miss being alone with you too. This is insane, it's just completely wild. I have no idea how I got into this situation, but I feel drawn to you like a moth to a flame." I remove one arm from around him and place my hand against his chest, careful not to dig my fingers into the fabric and wrinkle his suit.

He takes one hand from where he had been holding me, then wraps it around my hand on his chest. I love the feeling of his hand engulfing mine completely, his heartbeat strong beneath my fingertips.

"My darling, it is I who am drawn to you. I must be fucking crazy to be so infatuated, but I am. I'm afraid I'll slip up and something will get out. Not that I don't want you, but people won't understand..." he trails off, his brows furrowing over his light blue eyes.

I remove my other arm from around him and bring it to his face. He pushes his smooth cheek into my palm and sighs.

"I just wish we could get to know each other better. I'm more than my stage personality, you know?" His eyes are soft and kind as he says this.

"Of course I know. I wouldn't be so into you if you were _only_ a hardass." I giggle and I feel his cheek pull into a smile against my palm.

"I really must get going, love. I'm sorry. I can't have anyone seeing me, you know, it'd be hard to explain. I just couldn't help myself from seeing you." He releases my hand and unravels his arm from my back.

When he reaches the door he stops, then comes back across the room to where I'm standing and pulls me into another quick kiss, his blond bangs tickling my forehead. When he releases me he straightens his suit then walks to the door, smiling at me as he unlocks it and makes his exit.

I slowly sink down to sit in the chair, completely ignoring the shoes in front of me.

So, we're both crazy about each other. That's good to know. What can we do about it though? Absolutely nothing. We just have to act like everything is normal and hope that we can get time alone together.

There's a knock on the door and I half expect Gordon to come to sweep me up into his arms. Unfortunately, it's only Elaine.

"Having trouble deciding?" She indicates the forgotten shoes on the ground.

"Oh, uh, yeah. What do you think?"

I let her rifle through the shoes until she hands me a pair of heels. I barely even look at them as I nod my approval and she slips them onto my feet.

"Looks great, Elaine. Thank you."

"Of course, let's go get your photo taken now, shall we?" She leads me through the wooden doors, down the hallway and then to the photo stage once more.

Lina positions me next to Chef Ramsay without having to be asked. This time he slides an arm around my waist and I do the same to him. He also puts an arm around Abel, who stands with his hands tightly locked behind his back. Abel has on a very nice deep blue suit. He and Ramsay almost look alike.

Taylor is positioned next to me. She has on a beautiful golden dress with sequins lining the hem. She puts her arm around my shoulders, leaning into me and grinning as the pictures are taken once more.

After it's all said and done, Gordon leads us back to the limo while we're all still wearing our new outfits.

"I hope everyone is hungry, as part two of your reward is just around the corner!" He helps everyone into the limo and closes the door behind us.

I struggle to not look at him as we ride towards Nobu and instead try to talk to Taylor. But no matter what I do, I can't stop thinking of Gordon.


	36. Lunch at Nobu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chef Nobu serves us the very finest sushi in all of Los Angeles!

Wednesday, July 3rd, 2013

The limo pulls up to the outside of Nobu. We all get out and are greeted by an old Japanese man with a wide smile on his face.

"Chef Ramsay! Good to see you and your winners." He bows his head slightly, to which Gordon bows back and shakes his hand.

"Good to see you Chef Nobu. My friends and I are here to have a sampling of your most amazing dishes. May we come inside?"

"Of course! Come, come!" He waves us inside then puts his hand on Ramsay's back and walks with him, talking quietly until they approach a large beautiful wooden table with a long tablecloth in the very center of the room.

The restaurant is absolutely stunning. This is my first time being inside a fancy restaurant that wasn't Hell's Kitchen (or completely dark) and I am blown away. The whole building has a warm, earthy feel to the decor. Dark, hardwood flooring sprawls across the ground. There is a sushi bar with two chefs behind it and large leather stools pushed up under the bar.

Glistening golden lights hang down from the ceiling and plush-looking booths dot the corners of the high-class restaurant. I'm thankful for our new outfits, so I don't feel under-dressed.

All of the red team slides out their chairs and sits down. Chef Ramsay sits at the head of the table and I've managed to be sat on his left, across from Gina.

Within a few minutes, plates are brought out to our table by well-dressed servers, along with glasses of champagne. Chef Nobu stands at the head behind Ramsay and speaks, his hands on either side of Gordon's chair.

"Good afternoon, Hell's Kitchen chefs! Today I will be serving each of you the 'Chef's Daily Omakase', which includes eight courses. But first, let's get started with your appetizer. This is what is called a vegetable temaki with sesame miso paste."

The small hand roll didn't last long, we all finished it off cleanly before the first course of our eight-course meal.

The first course is brought out soon after, it's a small bit of what looks like tuna in a blue bowl with some sort of sauce underneath it.

"Your first course today is toro tartare with caviar in wasabi soy sauce. Toro is another word for fatty tuna, for those of you who didn't know!" Chef Nobu smiles at us then heads back for the kitchen.

The tuna is delicious, silky and melts in my mouth.

Soon enough, Chef Nobu is at the head of the table again with the next course hot on his heels.

"For your second course, we have an assorted sushi collection including tuna, mackerel, and surf clam sushi. At the very end, you can see a small sushi taco, a favorite invention of mine." He puffs out his chest as he talks about his sushi taco. It's kind of sweet how proud he is of it.

The sushi is amazing as expected, and the crunch of the sushi taco adds a new level of depth to the taste of the fish within.

Before too long, our third course arrives along with Chef Nobu.

"Now we're going to try the trio sashimi platter. This platter has whitefish with dry miso, bluefin tuna and wasabi whitefish with salsa. Please enjoy." He bows his head and disappears into the kitchen.

I'm already not hungry anymore by the time I finish eating and it doesn't help that my stomach was sent into knots by Gordon's touch just an hour earlier. Many of the red team members are chatting with each other, but Gordon stays unusually quiet as he eats. I wonder if he's engrossed in thinking about us. I know that I am.

"The fourth course today is yellowtail sashimi salad in yuzu dressing," he says as he serves Gordon his plate. The other plates are brought to the rest of us by servers.

This plate was not as good as the others, I think the yuzu dressing is just a bit too strong and overpowers the fish flavor.

Right as my stomach starts to settle, the fifth course arrives.

"Now we have king crab tempura in amazu ponzu sauce along with king crab leg in aji amarillo aioli as your first main course."

The king crab was tender and juicy, but I was starting to feel the effects of having eaten five plates of food.

"Number six today is beef tobanyaki, be careful, it's hot!" He smiles as he leaves the table again.

Suddenly, I feel a shoe against mine under the table behind the draping table cloth. The cool feeling of leather touches my skin through the straps of my heels. Is- is that Gordon? Is he trying to play footsie with me? He continues to eat his soup but I feel his shoe slowly move against the side of my foot. This man, I swear. I smile down at the bowl as I tap the bottom of my shoe to the top of his in return.

"Seventh course, are we all full yet?" Chef Nobu jokes, laying down Ramsay's plate.

"This here is just to wind down, seafood soup with fresh mushroom and shrimp."

I can barely finish my soup and settle for eating the pieces of shrimp from the bottom instead. Gordon has stopped moving, but his shoe is still pressed up to mine. I suppose both of us are aching for the other's touch. This is the best we can accomplish for now, but it's something.

"Finally, our grand finale!" Chef Nobu lays down the final course, a bento box with a chocolate lava cake, paired with green tea ice cream.

I'm not really able to resist chocolate, it's a weakness of mine. I finish the lava cake up and leave the ice cream, thinking of how I should have probably skipped the last three courses so my stomach wouldn't be so dangerously full. I can feel pressure on my stomach in the dress, but thankfully it's made of stretchy material so I'm not literally in danger of bursting my seams.

Gordon leans forward. "Did you know the chefs back at Hell's Kitchen have eaten some fine Japanese food as well? Want to know what I've left for their lunch?"

All of us nod, eagerly listening in.

"It's called nattō, it's basically fermented soybeans. You can ask them how it was when we get back, but stand a few feet away when you do, because their breath will be liable to knock you out." He grins as he pushes his plate back and then scoots out his chair, removing his foot from the side of mine.

The rest of us follow suit, getting up from our chairs.

"Before we go, let us thank our amazing host, Chef Nobu!" Gordon claps and we all join in, calling out "Thank yous" to him while he bows and smiles then waves to us as we exit his beautiful establishment.


	37. The Seventh Dinner Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The seventh dinner service of Hell's Smitten is under way!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THREE THINGS
> 
> 1\. DUDES I wrote smut in an up-and-coming chapter and I'm so stoked for y'all to read it I had to post this chapter early just to tell you what we've got on the horizon! HYPEEE!!
> 
> 2\. All of the chapters have been added to, the tense changed to present tense and there are much more descriptions! If you wanna re-read in preparation for the upcoming smut, I highly recommend it B)
> 
> 3\. I'm drawing a cover for this book! It's gonna be awesome. I'll post it when I finish :D

Wednesday, July 3rd, 2013

As soon as we exit the limo, Jean-Phillipe ushers us inside.

"Quickly! Come on now, service starts in fifteen minutes! Go get dressed!" he shouts.

We all rush through the kitchen, past the men and Kalyani finishing up prep. When I make it to the dorms I run to the bathroom, change out of my dress and into my jacket then sprint back down the stairs with everyone else.

I settle into my station, waving Garrett away so I can check the prep and be sure everything is in place. All of the fish cuts are accounted for, thankfully. Red, my partner on the fish station, slides up next to me and smiles.

Bella is solo on garnishes today, Taylor and Gail are on meats and Gina is by herself on appetizers.

Gordon approaches the head of the kitchen. "Is everything ready?" he asks.

"Yes Chef!" we respond.

"Good, Jean-Phillipe?" he shouts into the dining area.

"Yes, Chef?" Jean-Phillipe looks up from where he had been straightening out utensils.

"Please open Hell's Kitchen."

Jean-Phillipe nods and rushes to the doors, letting in a stream of hungry customers.

The first ticket comes in.

"Three scallops, two risotto!"

"Yes, Chef!" we reply.

Ahh, scallops, my old friend. I know I have the magic touch when it comes to this particular item, so Red agrees to have me make two orders while she handles one.

I bring up both of our trays and slide them beside Ramsay.

"Here you are, Chef."

I turn to walk back to my station but Chef Ramsay calls me back.

"Touch this scallop. Tell me what you feel," he asks.

I touch the scallop and immediately I can tell it's rubbery.

"Overcooked, Chef." I drop my head.

"Go remake it and this time check everything your partner does. You are the last line of defense at your station before your dishes come to me. Otherwise, you'll be down a teammate come tonight."

"It won't happen again, Chef." I look over to Red, who's oblivious to what Ramsay just told me. I definitely don't want her sent home. I head back to my station and pull a few more scallops out.

"Was there something wrong with the ones we sent?" she asks.

"Yeah, one of the orders was overcooked, "I respond, sparing her the fact that it was hers rather than mine that was the issue. She wipes sweat from her forehead with the arm of her jacket as she starts the oil for the scallops in a pan.

Once the scallops are re-fired, I bring them up to Chef. This time he sends them right out to the table without hesitation.

More apps come and go and we stay ahead of the curve. We make it to entrees without another hitch.

The blue team also seems to be doing well, aside from one overly salty risotto they make it to entrees at around the same time we do.

"Two wellingtons, two salmon, one cod!" Ramsay calls out.

"Heard!" we respond.

Red and I start on our fish as the meats are fired, keeping time with everyone else. It all seems to be going quite well, that is until the meats make it to the window following our fish.

"What is this shit?" Ramsay pulls apart a wellington to reveal a grey, dry inside.

"Who tried to serve me this dry, nasty wellington?" He turns sharply towards the kitchen, glaring at the meat station.

"Sorry Chef!" Taylor and Gail apologize.

"Well? Do you have any extras?" He pries.

Taylor slices open each wellington, only to reveal that they are all overcooked. She sighs heavily before responding, "No, Chef. They're all overdone."

Gordon flings one half of the dry wellington into the ground.

"Oh come ON!" he groans, "how much longer do you need?"

"Twelve minutes, Chef," Gail calls out. "The oven was turned up too high and I didn't notice. I apologize."

Gordon rubs his temples with his fingers.

"No no no no..." he closes his eyes and slumps against the pass.

"You all were doing so well and now we've just fallen flat. Fucking hurry up then, meat station! Remake your fish then, (Y/N) and Mary," he adds, pushing himself off the pass and turning towards the blue kitchen.

We fire our fish once more. I am sad to see the perfectly cooked fish we'd made earlier just go to waste. So much perfect food is wasted when a single thing falls behind. It really genuinely bothers me.

"What the fucking fuck is this shit now?!" Gordon shouts menacingly at the blue kitchen, holding a plate with salmon on it. "This fish is raw, sashimi level raw. I cannot understand how you can't tell the difference between raw and cooked!"

Dave's voice cuts in, "Chef, I'm sorry I didn't check that salmon! I trusted my teammate's opinion!"

"What? Who did you ask the opinion of? Last I checked, no one on the blue team is blind!" he growls.

"I asked Garrett, Chef," Dave responds.

"Well, Garrett isn't on your fucking station, is he? Is it garnish's fault when fish fails?" Gordon asks, jutting his neck forward.

"N-no Chef..." Dave gulps.

"Fucking do it again then Dave, and don't bother to ask anyone else for their opinion. If you can't tell the difference on your own, you don't belong in my kitchen," he demands.

"Of course, Chef." Dave clangs some pans together as he gets on re-making his salmon.

We finally make it to our last ticket, and Bella brings up her garnish to the pass.

Chef Ramsay grabs the pot and lifts the spinach up with his fork, grimacing.

"This spinach is overcooked. It's brown on the bottom. Did you forget to stir, Bella?" he says as he continues to hold up the nasty looking brown spinach.

"Uh, yeah Chef, I must've missed scraping the bottom," she replies.

"Disgusting, Bella. Fix it quickly so we don't have to re-make the entire ticket." He then turns to the blue kitchen and plates their food, sending it out. He then claps his hands together.

"Well done, blue team, you've managed to complete service. Go on and switch off." He doesn't sound very happy however and turns back to the red team to wait on Bella.

Finally, Bella brings up her re-made garnish and our dishes are sent out.

Once all the customers leave, we line up to hear Gordon's verdict.

"A pretty shit service if I'm being honest, from both teams. However, there was one team who managed to suck slightly less..." He shrugs his shoulders then nods his head towards the blue team. "Congrats, I guess, blue team. You've just barely pulled in to a win, but I'm not happy about your performance at all."

The blue team, who would normally be congratulating themselves and high-fiving at this point, all look solemnly towards Gordon.

"Now, red team. Please carefully deliberate on two chefs to be up for elimination tonight. I'll call you down in a bit. Piss off." He flicks his wrist towards the stairs and we all comply, heading upstairs together.

This is going to be the hardest elimination I've had to deal with so far.


	38. Elimination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of our red team ladies will be leaving us this chapter :(

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut is scheduled for release on FRIDAY! *cheering*

Wednesday, July 3rd, 2013

We all head together into the main area of the dorms. I sit on the couch next to Gail and Gina, while Taylor, Red, and Bella sit in the armchairs across from the sofa.

"This fucking suuuucks..." Gina puts her head in her hands, her cropped black hair falling down over her fingers.

Bella smacks her lips. "The meat station is what 'sucked' today. I'm voting for Taylor and Gail. I mean, come on, Gail didn't even check the oven temp before she stuck the wellingtons inside."

I lean forward towards Bella. "You forgot to stir your spinach, which I'd consider an equally rookie mistake."

She huffs. "Yeah, but at least I didn't force anyone to re-make any food, now did I?"

"You just got lucky with being on garnish, it's easy to resolve any problems you might have," Gail says, her fingers digging into the couch.

"Sure, that's true, but it's also easy to check the damn temp of an oven," Bella retorts haughtily.

Taylor pulls off the bandana that had been holding back her curls and speaks up, "I'm going to vote for Gail and Bella. Gail because she didn't check the temp on the oven and Bella because not burning spinach is about the easiest thing we do in that kitchen. Sorry, Gail," she adds.

Gail shakes her head. "Just because you weren't in charge of the oven doesn't mean that you should have sent up that dry wellington. I'm voting Taylor and Bella."

I place my hands in my lap and lean my head back, sighing.

"What do you think, (Y/N)? Have you decided your votes?" Gina asks, peering at me.

"Yeah..." I say as I sit up in the seat, "I have. I vote for Gail and Bella, for the same reasons that Taylor stated."

Bella whines, "You guys always try to up me for every little thing! It's such blatant favoritism! You just don't want to up your _'best friend'_." Bella glares hatefully at me, then flicks her gaze to Taylor, who doesn't make eye contact with either of us.

"I can't say that she's not my friend but Taylor wasn't the one to make the big fumble on the meat station that held us all back. The oven was Gail's responsibility. Like the spinach was yours, and you failed," I respond.

Gina mumbles to herself for a moment before she finally raises her head from her hands.

"I'm going to have to go for the meat station. Taylor and Gail. Both of you should be responsible for the oven."

Red- who has been sitting quietly this whole discussion- finally perks up as we turn to her, all of us realizing at the same moment that she is going to need to break the tie between Bella and Taylor.

She silently sweeps her eyes between Taylor and Bella before she breaths deeply.

"I'm so sorry, but I have to vote for Gail and Bella. I can't blame Taylor for trusting Gail."

Bella pushes herself up out of the armchair and stomps into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Shortly afterward, we all can hear the muffled sound of screaming. Did she just go in there to scream into a pillow?

Well, at least she's taking steps to not viciously attack people she is mad at. Maybe she's learned one thing during her time at Hell's Kitchen.

The phone rings and Red answers it. She then tells us all to head downstairs for elimination.

Bella doesn't leave the dorm bedroom, so Red goes to the door and knocks. After a minute, a puffy-eyed Bella opens the door and sniffles as she pushes past Red in the doorway and heads down the stairs.

When we all arrive, the boys are sitting in a booth to the side while Gordon stands at the front, his hands clasped in front of him.

"Ladies, have we come to a decision?" he questions.

"Yes, Chef," we respond.

"Good. (Y/N), your first nomination and why, please," he asks me.

"Uh, Chef," I start somewhat nervously, feeling everyone's eyes on me, "we decided our first nominee is Gail. She should have checked the oven before she put the wellingtons in, and she should have definitely checked them before she put them up at the pass. That really stalled us in the kitchen today."

"Right, Mary, your second nominee and why?" he turns to her.

Red clears her throat. "Chef, our second nominee is Bella. Stirring spinach isn't difficult and burning it can only be a sign of negligence."

Gordon nods. "OK. Bella and Gail, step forward please."

The two women step forward into the spotlight. Gail looks poised as ever, while Bella's shoulders are shaking as she represses sobs.

"Gail, please tell me why you deserve to stay in Hell's Kitchen," he asks.

"Chef, I've come here to win. It was a bad blunder to not turn the oven to the proper temp, but I promise that isn't what you can expect out of me."

"Well, what can I expect out of you then, Gail?" he cocks his head.

"Excellence, Chef. I'm not going to lose like this." She stands even taller and holds her shoulders back.

"Bella, please tell me why you deserve to stay in Hell's Kitchen." Chef looks to her.

"C-C-Chef... I know I messed up badly on the spinach b-but it didn't hinder ANYONE. I fixed it in t-t-two minutes! Gail's problem m-made everyone have to restart! I-I've NEVER failed that badly!" her whole back shakes with sobs as she pleads her case to him.

"Please for the love of God, pull yourself together Bella..." Gordon pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales heavily.

Bella bites her lower lip and wipes her tears off on the sleeve of her jacket.

Gordon flits his eyes between each of the two women in front of him. I silently cross my fingers, hoping that this is Bella's time.

"Bella..." Gordon starts.

She whimpers.

"Get back in line."

Bella joyously hops in the air then runs back to the rest of us. Red audibly gasps and begins to sniffle, holding up one sleeve-covered hand to hide her face.

"This is your last fucking chance, Bella. I'm not going to see you up here again, is that clear?" Gordon shouts to her.

"Yes, Chef! Thank you!" she beams, all evidence of her crying just a moment before is completely wiped from her face. What an actress.

"I'm sorry Gail, but your time in Hell's Kitchen is over. You have to check your station meticulously every day so things like this don't happen. The whole of service depends on it."

Gail bows her head while she removes her jacket and steps towards Ramsay. She hands him her jacket and turns to leave, but he stops her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Gail, I want you to know you are an incredibly strong woman. You've improved greatly since coming here and I'm confident that you have great things in your future. Thank you for your efforts," Ramsay says sincerely.

"Thank you, Chef." She nods to him, then goes to the door and looks back at us one last time.

We wave to her, Red peeks out from behind her hand and joins us in saying our goodbyes.

The door closes on Gail and we all stand there silently, waiting for Chef Ramsay to speak.

Gordon turns back to us, a steely expression on his face.

"After the abysmal service we've had today, Hell's Kitchen will be closed tomorrow."

All of the red team looks to each other, our eyes wide.

"Because tomorrow is the Fourth of July!" Gordon's face lights up with a wide smile.

The red team immediately relaxes. I had not realized it was that close to a holiday. There is always so much going on in Hell's Kitchen that I haven't had time to even think about what day it is- aside from pining for Sunday to arrive, of course.

"We're going to spend the whole day relaxing, then at night I've got a surprise for you all." He rubs his hands together, looking at each of us.

"But until then, you are still the losers, red team. Please clean up the kitchens and then get ready for bed. Blue team, good work, go on to sleep." He waves us all off with a smile, locking eyes with mine for a moment before he turns away to head back to his office.

I wonder what _specifically_ he's planning on surprising us with as I ascend the stairs to the dorms.


	39. July 4th Part 1/4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our Fourth of July celebrations are underway! :D

Thursday, July 4th, 2013

I wake up around 8 am to the sounds of breakfast being made. Stretching my arms out over my head, I yawn. It sure is wonderful that Gordon gave us a day off in the middle of the week. I feel excited to find out what he has planned for us today.

Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I amble into the kitchen area. Bella, Dave, Pietro, Kalyani, and Garrett are lounging around on the sofa while Abel and Shaun are both sitting in the armchairs reading. The book Abel is reading looks different than the one I'd seen him with a few days ago. Did he finish that thick novel already?

Spotting Taylor, Red, and Gina sitting at the bar, I scoot in on Taylor's free side with a smile. 

"Hey! You hungry? I made some eggs and toast. Here-" Taylor gets up and piles a plate full then slides it across the bar table to me and takes her seat again.

"Thank you, Tay," I say cheerily as I begin eating.

Red peers over Taylor's shoulder at me with a frown. Her eyes were finally not puffy from crying after last night's elimination. "I can't believe Gail is gone. Just like that..."

I put my toast down and shake my head, sighing. "Yeah, I thought for sure Bella would be out," I lean towards her and hold up my hand to one side of my mouth, "how many lives does this catty bitch have anyway?"

Red covers her mouth to stop herself from spitting her food out and happily kicks her feet that are dangling off the side of the bar stool. 

"Do you have any idea what we're going to be doing today?" she asks when she finally manages to swallow her food.

I shrug as I chew my toast. "No clue, Red. Have the sous chefs made an entrance yet? I might have missed it. It seems like I sleep through everything," I say.

Taylor shakes her head. "Nope, we haven't seen any of them yet."

As if on cue, Christina peeks her head up from the stairs.

" _Pssst!_ " she says from the stairwell, catching my and a few other peoples' attention.

I tilt my head to the side. "What is it?"

"Y'all wanna go swimming in a bit?" she grins.

Taylor jumps up from her bar stool, alerting everyone else to Christina's presence with her joyous response, "Heck yea I do!"

Christina snickers. "Great! Gordon has picked out a nice rooftop swimming pool for you all." She leans a bit further into the room, "It even has an open _freakin'_ bar!"

We look excitedly at each other. It feels like we've won yet another challenge, but this time we don't have to worry about an elimination at the end of the day!

"Has everyone remembered to pack a swimming suit?" Christina shouts to us. 

We all nod and shout back, "Yeah!" to her. Once she knows for sure that we've all got something to wear, she claps.

"Great! Just so you know, you won't need to wear your mics or worry about being on camera. Chef Ramsay just wants everyone to have a nice, relaxing Fourth of July. Meet us downstairs in ten minutes and wear your swimsuits under your clothes, alright?"

"Yes, Chef!" we happily respond to her. She waves before she walks back down the stairs.

I clear off my plate then rush to the dorms to pull out my swimsuit. It's a white bikini with gold chains on the sides of the bottom piece and across the center of my chest on the bikini top. Nothing too flashy but not entirely plain either. I pull on a light blue tank top and some shorts over it before I head downstairs to the kitchens. 

Most everyone is already in the dining room area. I can see Gordon amidst the hubbub of chefs surrounding him. He's wearing a plain white t-shirt and jeans with a sleek pair of sunglasses resting atop his golden hair.

When I join the group, Gordon grins. "Good morning! Excited to go swimming?" he asks me.

I nod, returning the smile. "I haven't been swimming in years, it'll be fun for me to get back in the water."

"Really? You haven't been swimming in years? My darling, this is unacceptable. You really must truly enjoy yourself today, yeah? I try to swim at least every few months, it's great exercise." 

His eyes move about the room. "It looks like everyone is ready. Let's head out, shall we?"

Gordon leads the way to the door and holds it open for us.

The first person through the door is Bella. She gasps and holds both hands to her mouth. When I pass through the doors, I see three white mustang convertibles lined up, chauffeurs in the drivers' seats. There are three seats open in the back and one in the front next to the driver of each car. Gordon closes the door of Hell's Kitchen behind me and stands close enough to my back that I can feel his presence.

"Lovely, aren't they? I've rented them for us all to enjoy today. Come on now." Gordon steps down the stairs and holds open one of the car doors. Gina, Bella, Garrett, and Abel slide in, with Abel taking the front seat. He closes the door for them then opens the next car door. Shaun, Kalyani, Red, and Dave climb in and buckle up, Shaun in the front seat of this particular car. 

Finally, he opens the last door of the final mustang. Pietro, Taylor, myself and then Ramsay scoot into our seats. Since Pietro is quite a bit larger than the rest of us, he sits in the front seat while Taylor sits to the far left with me in the middle between her and Ramsay.

"Let's go then!" Gordon shouts for the drivers to head towards our destination.

Driving along Los Angeles in a beautiful car with my hair flying out behind me, my side pressed up against Chef Ramsay and with my new best friend to my other side, I feel amazing. The drive is twenty minutes and along the way, we get lots of car horns trying to catch our attention. Ramsay waves to people on the sidewalk who point him out and take pictures. 

We pull up to a fancy hotel with huge pillars that hold up the carport overhang. Ramsay exits the vehicle and heads towards the doorman, who opens the door with a bow.

The main entrance has marble flooring and gold accents around the columns that surround the lobby. The building is at least thirty stories tall, and the ceiling reaches all the way up to the top floor, a large golden chandelier dangling down about midway to the ground.

"I've gotten us all some rooms, so you don't have to be on the roof the whole time if you don't want to. Red team, your room is 408. Blue team, your room is 409. Feel free to order room service to the roof or your team's room at any point if you get hungry before it gets dark, I'll cover that tab as well. Now, let's get to the roof!" He pushes the button of the elevator and I watch as the glass box descends towards us. While we wait, he passes out door cards to everyone for our rooms.

There's just enough space for all of us to fit snugly inside the elevator. It takes us up through the building until we reach the top floor. Red doesn't open her eyes the entire time we are in the elevator. I assume she's afraid of heights, and rightfully so. A glass elevator doesn't exactly feel like the most secure place to be standing.

The elevator doors slide open and a vast, clear blue pool awaits us. Just as promised, there is an open bar to the far right of the rooftop and lounge beach chairs spread out around the pool edge. The weather is just right for swimming. Abel takes his book and settles down in the shaded area beside the pool. Kalyani stretches out in the sun on a lounge chair like a content cat. Pietro, Dave, Bella, and Shaun make a beeline for the bar. Everyone else seems to be getting ready to hop in the pool already. 

I walk over to the side of the building and take hold of the railing. There is a clear blue sky above us and the cityscape spans out below us. Usually, I find it hard to think of cities as 'pretty' unless it is at night, but the palm trees dotting the roads and the bright colors of the beach umbrellas just off the coast of the ocean to our right really makes it hard to not consider what I'm seeing as picturesque.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Gordon's voice sounds from my left, causing me to jump a bit in surprise.

"Yeah, it is. I've not been on a rooftop before," I say as my hair blows out behind me when a warm breeze comes through.

"I've been on many, but this is one of my favorites. I was excited for the opportunity to bring you here," he says, his fingers tapping happily on the metal railing.

I look around to make sure no one could hear him say that. Everyone is either already stripped down into their swimming suits, at the bar or lounging about the sides of the pool. Gordon laughs.

"You don't think that I already checked for eavesdroppers?" he smiles down at me.

"Yeah, of course, but you know..." I look out over Los Angeles, a bit anxious.

He leans in a bit closer to me. "I'd like the chance to speak to you more privately. Do you think you could meet me in room 410 in about an hour?" he asks.

"Is that the best idea?" I respond, "won't someone notice us both missing?"

He grips the railing a bit tighter. "Maybe it is a bad idea..." he pauses, then locks eyes with me. I sense a steely determination behind his gaze. 

"But I don't bloody care. You can say you ordered room service and took a shower. Leave the water running in the bathroom of the red team's room. There's a second bathroom, so you shouldn't be hindering anyone. We won't be _too_ terribly long." He winks and I feel a blush creep up my cheeks.

"OK..." I respond, a bit flustered.

"Now, do I get a chance to see you in your bikini?" he asks quietly, with one eyebrow raised playfully.

My face is truly burning now.

"S-sure," I respond, then hesitate. I know everyone else probably stripped down out here but will taking off my clothes next to Ramsay be a bit too much? I step back from the railing and turn away while he stays at the railing, still looking out over the city. I pull my shirt over my head and then wiggle out of my shorts and throw them onto a nearby lounge chair.

When I turn around, Ramsay peeks at me over his shoulder.

I watch his lips move as he mouths the word _'gorgeous'_ at me, then turns back to look over the railing once more.

Not trying to draw any more attention to us than we already have, I head towards the pool. Taylor is floating around with a pink pool noodle under her arms, Gina is kicking her feet in the water while drinking a martini at the edge of the pool. Bella is at the bar with most of the men, Dave's arm wrapped around her waist as she sips on her drink. Her bikini bottom is so thin it almost looks like a thong. At least she most likely has been too distracted to pay attention to Ramsay and I having a private chat.

As I sit at the edge of the pool's deep end, Red pops up out of the water in front of me. Her red hair glistens in the sun and she has a huge smile on her face.

"I love swimming. I always feel like a mermaid." She pushes her hair from her face as she treads water.

"You look like a mermaid," I say back to her, to which she giggles and dives under the water again.

Slowly, I lower myself into the pool. The water is warm and delightful. I swim around the edge until I get to Taylor, who splashes water at me.

"Hey! Did you get a sunburn already?" she asks, tilting her head slightly.

I raise one hand to my cheeks and feel they're still burning.

"Uh, yeah," I respond, then splash Taylor to distract her from her line of questioning while Gina is so close by. I'll let her know what Ramsay and I said later on.

We spend some time splashing water at each other and playing before Gina hops in and joins us. She tugs the pool noodle out from underneath Taylor, who's eyes grow wide before she dips down below the water, emerging a moment later and sputtering out, "That wasn't fair! I wasn't ready!"

Gina takes the pool noodle and wiggles it in the air.

"Come get it, then!" She sticks her tongue out and swiftly moves it to the side when Taylor lunges for it.

The two of them laugh and chase each other around the pool for a bit before Taylor tackles Gina under the water and wrestles the noodle out of her hands, raising it above her head victoriously before settling back down with the noodle under her arms. Gordon watches us while leaning on the railing, sunglasses over his eyes and a smile on his face. 

An hour flies by faster than I expect. I look around for Gordon only to notice that he's slipped away already. 

I take Taylor's arm and pull her to the deep end of the pool, away from everyone. She looks at me with a curious expression.

"Taylor, Ramsay asked me to go talk to him, I'm going to pretend I'm getting room service and taking a shower. Will you cover for me?"

Her eyes grow huge for a second before she nods, "For sure, (Y/N), I told you I got your back."

She nudges me. "You will share details though, in exchange for my services?" she asks, waggling her eyebrows.

I snort, "Sure, but depend on what we talk about I may keep some details private."

She lets out a low, _'ooooohhhhh'_ before giving me a wry grin and splashing away from me to rejoin Gina. 

I pull myself out of the pool and find a towel nearby. I wrap it around myself and slip on my sandals, then head to the elevator and wait for it to arrive.


	40. (*)July 4th Part 2/4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See image below for a summary *winkyface*

Thursday, July 4th, 2013

The elevator dings as it reaches the roof and slides the doors open. I look over my shoulder to see if anyone is watching me, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I see that no one has noticed me leaving.

I step into the elevator and press the button to go to our floor. As I wait for the elevator to descend, I try wringing the pool water out of my hair. The elevator 'dings' again as I reach my destination and the doors open once more.

The hallways are long and the doors are spaced far apart. They must be huge rooms!

After a while walking, I reach the red team's room, room 408. I quickly slip inside and look around. There are two twin beds on the left wall, a large window overlooking the city and a big flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. There is an alcove with a sofa and a mini-fridge tucked away on the side. No one seems to have been in here yet but me. I've got to make sure that I don't give any reason for people to be suspicious of me or my whereabouts. I open the bathroom and turn the shower on cold so as to not waste warm water. The towel I had been carrying was soaking wet, so I hung it up next to the shower. As an extra precaution, I take the 'do not disturb' sign off the end table and hang it on the bathroom door, just in case. I shut the door and exit the hotel room.

I walk a bit further until I reach the room labeled with a golden '410' and stand in front of the door, my breath caught in my throat.

After a moment, I unfreeze myself, realizing that I can't be seen standing outside a door that isn't mine and not come off suspiciously to anyone who might be coming down to the red or blue team rooms. I knock on the door.

In just a second or two, the door opens and I see Gordon smiling widely down at me. He bends down and picks me up, curling me into his chest and letting the door close behind him as he carries me into the room.

"I was worried you wouldn't make it," he says while carrying me through the room.

"Sorry, I just had to be sure no one saw me and that everything looked convinc-" he tosses me down as I'm speaking onto the king-sized bed in the middle of the room, the last part of my sentence comes out as I bounce on the bed, " _-ing!_ "

He then climbs onto the bed over me and nuzzles his face into the side of my neck. I giggle as I wrap my arms around his back.

"Thank you for being so cautious, love," he mumbles into my neck, "I love that I can trust you and that you trust me. How did I ever get so lucky?" he asks.

" _You??_ Lucky? You meant to say me, right?" I say as I thread my fingers through his hair on the back of his head. I feel him smile into my neck before he lightly kisses the same spot and pulls back to look at me.

"I definitely meant me. You have no idea how long I've been looking for someone like you," he says sincerely as he brushes back my still wet hair from my forehead with his fingertips.

"What do you mean? You don't do this often?" I wave my wrist to indicate both of us and our current position with a wry grin.

He looks bashful for a moment. It is _insanely_ cute.

"No, actually, I don't. In case you haven't noticed, I'm the most famous celebrity chef in the world. Not to toot my own horn, but with such a status comes a lot of bloody press. They're goddamn vultures looking for anything they can to slander me with. You know, typical paparazzi things, take a picture here, destroy a livelihood there..." he trails off as he leans down to kiss me and I reach my head up to meet him. He sighs against my lips and relaxes until he's nearly laying on top of me. I wiggle trying to get comfortable and he pushes himself up a bit to give me some space, breaking apart our kiss.

"I have to ask, how did you even manage to get into a position where your wife trusted you to do something like this- especially with your status and everything?" I question, running one hand down his chest and to the bottom of his t-shirt.

"I'll tell you later, it's a bit of a long story. For now, we only have an hour at max," he grins as I reach my hand under his shirt, "and I have a lot more I want to do than just talk. I hope you don't mind," he says, his voice getting husky as his eyes move from mine and roam my body.

I shake my head silently, entranced by the feel of his chest beneath my fingers. Gordon participates in triathlons but I had never expected him to be so solid, what with his job involving having to constantly eat food. He puts one knee on either side of me and sits up, pulling his shirt off in one swift motion.

The light fixture behind his head gives his blond hair a white halo of light. I lay in awe beneath him, completely believing that I'm dreaming at this moment. This can't possibly be real.

He puts one hand behind my back on the bed and unties my bikini top. I nervously break eye contact with him as he pulls my bikini top over my head, revealing my breasts.

Gordon takes my chin in his fingers and draws me up to him again, forcing me to look into his eyes. They are burning with the same flame I saw ignite when we were on the boat together and he'd first asked me if I was available for him to take. He leans down and this time he lightly takes my lower lip in his teeth and bites down softly. I moan and curl my fingers into the bedsheets, unable to stop myself.

One of his hands moves down to my breast and squeezes it. He releases my lower lip from his mouth then moves his head until he's inches away from my nipple. He licks it then blows cool air over the top of it, causing it to stiffen. He looks up at me with a cheeky grin before he takes my nipple into his mouth and rolls his tongue over it. I hiss through my teeth and feel my body tense up, my fingers digging even more into the bed.

"G-Gordon, please..." I manage to say.

He raises his head up from my breast and raises his eyebrows.

"Yes, darling?" his smooth British accent tantalizes me.

I blush, unable to continue what I had wanted to ask. He catches on though and one corner of his mouth raises into a smirk.

"You want something from me?" he asks, one hand trailing down my stomach.

I nod, squeezing my eyes shut as his hand travels further down my body.

He loops one finger through the chain at the side of my bikini bottom and lightly tugs it.

"You want me, love?" he says as he raises his brilliant blue eyes to meet mine as I peek down at him.

"Y-yes please, Gordon..." I whisper.

"What was that?" he teases, tugging the side of my bikini bottoms just a bit lower.

"Please, Gordon! Please, I want you!" I respond, maybe a bit too loudly this time.

He cocks his head to the side and with one smooth pull, he removes my bikini bottoms. The bed is wet underneath me from where I had been in the pool just a little while earlier.

Ramsay's fingers dance at my entrance before he slips one index finger inside me. I squirm under his touch.

"Excited, are we?" he asks, thrusting his finger a bit quicker into me. I can't really respond, so I nod again.

"Me too, love," he concurs as he withdraws from me. I whimper as my eyes open at the loss of his touch.

Gordon stands up from the bed and removes his pants. His swimming trunks are stiff with a long, thick indent running down the left side.

"You see why I couldn't go swimming with you." He indicates himself with a wave of his hand, "This is what you do to me when I see you, so I couldn't very well swim comfortably. At least not before this..."

He curls his finger, beckoning me towards him. I sit up in the bed, scooting until I'm at the edge.

"Take them off," he demands, placing one hand on my shoulder.

I nod and grab the sides of his swimming trunks, holding my breath.

"Well?" he taunts me, his eyes sparkling, "we can't do anything like this, darling."

I yank his trunks down and gasp, in momentary shock as his cock stands tall in front of me.

"Take it, it's yours..." he murmurs, his other hand reaching behind my head.

Using both hands, I take hold and stroke him. He leans his head back, his eyes closing slightly in pleasure.

Hesitantly, I lean forward and take his cock into my mouth. It's thick, I can feel my mouth stretching to accommodate him. His fingers dig into the back of my head as I begin to trace the sides of him with my tongue.

"Fuck, you're amazing," he groans, his hips thrusting towards me. His cock goes deeper into my throat, causing me to gag. I feel tears prick the corners of my eyes, but I don't stop. His hands now move to the sides of my head and I feel his fingers weave through my hair. My airway is blocked and after a while, I meet slight resistance before he releases me to catch my breath. There is a small _pop_ and a thin line of saliva trails from the head of his cock to my lips as I look up at him.

"Fuck me," he says under his breath, wiping a tear from my eye with his thumb. "You're so fucking beautiful."

He leans down into me and kisses me deeply, his tongue roaming my mouth as he joins me on the bed. His hands grab my hips and he pushes me back into the center of the plush sheets, never breaking our kiss. It is only when I feel him _there_ that I gasp against his lips. He leans back from me and has a small, hesitant smile.

"Are you absolutely sure you want this, love? There's no going back from here, you know..." he says, "Please don't say yes unless you're absolutely sure. I don't want either of us to regret anyth-"

I raise one finger to his lips and silence him.

"Yes, Gordon, yes. Yes, a million times. I want this, please..." I take my finger from his lips and reach down to grab his cock, positioning it right at my entrance. I don't give him a moment to object before I push my hips up into him, enveloping him in myself.

His breath gets caught in his throat for a moment as I move against him. Only when I hear him exhale does he join me, plunging himself deeper into me. My hands fly up and wrap around his back, my nails digging into him as he moves against me.

He kisses me again as my body shudders against his, my muscles already telling me I'm close to cumming. I've never came this fast before, but I'd spent nearly the entire time I've been at Hell's Kitchen on my mind and any time we'd gotten together had only been an intoxicating tease.

Gordon pulls back from our kiss and grips my hair in his hand, gaining momentum with each thrust.

"I'm gonna cum, Gordon!" I shout, my body writhing as my muscles begin to spasm. He slows down momentarily as the walls of my pussy pulse against his cock. My fingers relax and my hands fall back down to the bed. My entire body released all its tension and in this moment, it feels as if I'm floating.  
  
When my eyes flutter open, Gordon is smiling down at me, just barely pushing himself in and out of me.  
  
"That was fast," he teases, "Do you think you have the energy to cum again?"  
  
My lips curl into a smile.  
  
"Give it to me and we'll see."  
  
That's all the indication he needed. He pulls me up from laying down. I wrap my legs around his hips and he sits up in the bed on his knees.  
  
Gordon starts with slowly rotating my hips against his. I lean my head back and feel my hair spill from my shoulders over my back. He takes one hand and trails it from the top of my neck all the way down my body until he reaches my butt. He squeezes, then lifts me and pulls me back down onto him. His cock is big enough that he can pick me up and move me about freely without coming out of me. It feels insanely good to be manipulated so easily by his hands. The way he moves me it's like I weigh nothing to him.  
  
When my head comes forward again, Ramsay puts his forehead against mine. "I've wanted this ever since I first saw you. Then, when I saw you cook, I wanted you even more. You're perfect for me, (Y/N)," he lifts me and pulls me down even deeper onto his cock, eliciting a sharp inhale from me.  
  
If I could respond, I'd tell him how I wanted him too, ever since I first saw him in person. I may have wanted him before even then, but I can't say for sure since I'd always considered him as my mentor. Any thoughts of being with him must have been repressed until I saw him in person and the feelings came rushing forth like a dam breaking.  
  
I can feel my walls tightening around him once more. He kisses me as he continues to thrust into me. I begin to feel light-headed as I struggle to take a breath, breaking our kiss and wrapping my arms around his neck for balance as he moves within me.  The burgeoning feeling of my impending peak gets too much to bear and I tightly wrap my legs around him, squeezing him into me as my body shakes with an more powerful orgasm than the first.  
  
It is then that I feel his cock pulsating as well, the warm stickiness of his cum fills me up as I bite my lower lip and my eyes feel like they're going to roll back into my head. He lays me on my side on the bed and slumps down behind me, curling me against him and into his arms. Thick cum dribbles out of me and onto the bedsheets. I can feel his softening cock pressed up against my butt.  
  
Hesitantly I turn my head.  
  
"Gordon?"

" _Mmmh?_ " he mumbles into the back of my head.  
  
"Did you really just cum inside of me? I'm not on the pill you know," I say shakily. I didn't think to bring birth control to a cooking competition!  
  
His arm wraps around my stomach and pulls me closer to him.  
  
"It's quite alright, love. I'm basically infertile," he says, turning me to lay on my back so he can look at me. His hair is tousled and he has a cute little exhausted grin on his face.  
  
"What? Really?" I ask.  
  
He nods, his eyes hazy after our passionate lovemaking. He has one arm under my head, his elbow bent so that he can play with my hair between his fingers. The other arm is wrapped around my torso protectively.  
  
"How do you know? I mean, that you're infertile? You have kids, right?" my voice wavers.  
  
"I do. But years of working under high-stress conditions, not to mention the stove basically cooking my balls as I stand near it has lowered my sperm count into the single digits. Megan and the twins are thanks to IVF, and we had to try more times than I could've counted before my wife and I conceived Tilly. I'm sure we have nothing to worry about."

I place one hand on his bare chest, sleek with sweat, before relaxing. If he says it's OK, then it's probably OK. I try to let myself enjoy the feeling of his- _the_ Gordon Ramsay's- cum inside of me rather than worrying about the possibilities... I'll just have to trust him like he trusts me.

 


	41. July 4th Part 3/4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of our first time with the Chef ;)

Thursday, July 4th, 2013

"Do you want to take a real shower now, (Y/N)?" Gordon asks quietly as he continues to twirl my still-wet hair between his fingers while we lay together.

"That'd probably be a good idea..." I murmur as I curl up closer to him, not really wanting to try to use my jellied limbs. 

"Might want to hurry, we've been here forty minutes already," he says as he indicates the analog clock on the bedside table with a nod of his head.

Groaning, I try to sit up. My whole body feels satisfied, loose and uncoordinated. I would much rather take a nap in Gordon's arms than get up and do anything. Still, somewhere in the back of my mind, I can hear my sensibilities trying to keep me moving. I can't let anyone catch on. Gordon removes his arm from over me and I finally manage to move to the end of the bed and throw my legs over the side.

"Mind if I join you?" Gordon's voice inquires from beside me. He's propped up his head with his hand, leaning his elbow into the pillow. I never thought I'd get to see him like this. It still feels unreal- even with the evidence of us being together still warming my insides.

"Please do," I say, nodding to him. He smiles widely then sits up on the bed next to my shoulder. He wraps his arms around me and holds my side into him, his face next to my cheek.

"Thank you for this, (Y/N). Thank you for everything," he whispers into my ear, then I feel him begin to nibble on my earlobe. It sends tingles down the side of my neck, causing me to shudder involuntarily. 

"You're going to get me worked up again!" I feign annoyance as I try to playfully push him away with the side of my arm.

"You've already done that to me," he rumbles into the side of my neck. I look down and notice his cock beginning to rise.

"We'll never make any progress if we keep it up, Chef," I say, nudging his chest with my elbow. 

He huffs exaggeratedly and releases me with a pout.

"You're right, of course. I've just had to wait so bloody long to have you, I don't want to have to go back to pretending I don't have feelings for you when we leave this room..." he looks at me with a pained expression that I completely relate to.

"Me either, Gordon. Let's not think about it until we get out of the shower, OK?" I try to placate both of us.

He nods and gets up out of bed, lowering his hand to me so that he can pull me up.

I take his hand and he pulls me closer to him, kissing my nose. 

Laughing, I stand on my toes to kiss his nose in return. He gives me a boyish grin of happiness before he takes my hand and leads me into the bathroom.

His suite is nicer than the ones that he'd gotten for the Hell's Kitchen chefs. The shower has a large fogged glass door with grey stone walls. It looks very expensive. Gordon leans in and turns on the water, then steps in a few moments later and pulls me with him.

I rinse my hair out and apply some body wash. Gordon washes himself too and I have to fight myself from staring at him with my mouth hanging open. His arms are thick and muscular, his chest is broad and solid and of course, his cock is pretty amazing too. 

"Like what you see, love?" he winks as he rinses out the soap from his hair. 

Blushing, I look down at the floor of the shower and watch the soap bubbles swirl down the drain.

"Of course I do, you're the most amazing man I've ever met..." I say, eyes still firmly looking at the ground.

Gordon wraps one arm around me and pulls me into him, the shower water cascading down both our bodies. He kisses the top of my head as I lean into his chest.

"Thank you, my darling. You're amazing too, you know?" he says earnestly. I look up at him and see he has an intense look in his eyes.

"What is it, Gordon?" I ask, my eyebrows pulling together as I try to figure out his expression.

"Remember back when you told me that you're not some fling?" he begins.

"Yes?" I respond while I reach my hands up until I have one arm around either shoulder of his, my fingers tangling into his hair. 

"I don't want you to be some fling, either." 

My body tenses as I freeze in place, trying to process what he might mean by that. He tightens his arm around me.

"I think I've fallen in love with you," he says softly, leaning his head down towards me. Water droplets dangle from the tips of his blond hair.

I'm dumbfounded. I stand there looking into the vastness of his blue eyes and try to find words to say. When I feel his arm begin to loosen his grip, I spring to life and pull his head down to me, locking my lips onto his. I feel him laugh against my mouth before he dips me like a dancer and continues our kiss as the water pours down on us.

When he raises me back to my feet, I pull back from him and look deeply into his eyes while my heart pounds.

"I love you too, Gordon," I say as my heart thuds even harder against my rib cage.

A huge smile spreads across his face. He presses my back up against the stone wall of the shower and runs his hands over my body, kissing my lips, my cheeks, my forehead, everywhere he can reach. 

"We'll find a way to make it work, (Y/N). I love you. I do," he says determinedly in between his flurry of kisses. I giggle as I run my fingers down his slick back.

Once we finish our shower, Gordon steps out and tosses me a fluffy towel. I wrap myself in it and shiver a bit as the cold from the tiles beneath my feet travels up my body. Gordon rubs his towel on his head quickly, drying his hair. 

"Now I guess we go back to pretending that you didn't just fill me up with your cum and we didn't just profess our love to each other, right? Easy as pie." I tease, smirking at him when he pulls his towel from his face.

"We've been doing well so far, my love," he smirks back and tosses his towel at me, rushing out of the bathroom.

"Hey!" I shout as the towel is lobbed into my chest. I catch it and toss it onto the toilet lid then chase him back into the room. He's standing in the center of the room with my bikini top and bottom dangling off his fingers. 

"You must've not brought your clothes back with you to the room. You'll have to wear this again," he says, then hands the swimsuit over to me.

I quickly put the swimsuit on and sit at the end of the bed to pull on my sandals. Gordon sits next to me and leans his head into my shoulder.

"(Y/N)?" he asks.

" _Hmm?_ " I say as I pull on my second sandal.

"Would you mind if you met my wife?" he says as he takes my free hand in his.

My eyes grow wide.

"Do you think that's a good idea?" my voice shakes a bit as I imagine her tearing me to bits for what I've done with her husband.

He nods.

"She told me she wants to meet anyone I, uh, well you know..." he rubs the back of his head with his other hand.

"If that's what you really want, Gordon." I focus on his hand in mine.

"Only if you truly want this. I am a married man, (Y/N), so things can't be as simple as you just being my girlfriend now. I love you, but I love my wife and children too. They have to come first. I'm only with you because she allowed me to be. I want her to meet you," he says sincerely.

"Of course I want this. I've never been even ten percent as happy as I am with you in my entire life. I've just... never even known anyone in an open relationship before, much less been a part of one myself. I can't help but feel like your wife will always be more important than I am, and I don't want to be an afterthought..." I trail off.

Gordon squeezes my hand.

"You won't be. Tana has been with her boyfriend for longer than she and I have been together, yet still, we treat each other as equals and love each other fully. I know this can work because of her."

My eyes shoot up from our hands to his gaze. 

"She's seeing someone? Aside from you?" I ask, bewildered.

"Yes. Her and I- uh, well, I met her when I went to pick up my motorcycle from the garage of my friend's house. She happened to be seeing him at the time," he chuckles, "but she also couldn't help herself being interested in me. Of course, I found her breathtaking as well."

He smiles as he reminisces. "Her boyfriend and I were already friends. It turns out, he takes a more... submissive role to her. She's a strong woman and enjoys being the leader, but being led is something that she's always craved and he couldn't do that for her. Her boyfriend was actually the one to suggest that we begin dating, once he saw us getting along so well when we'd spend time together."

I feel my hand gripping his tightly as I take in his every word.

"So we did. Since I only see my family once a month or so due to my commitments, he takes care of her while I'm gone. It's nice knowing exactly who she's spending her time with." He finishes, his eyebrows raise as he looks to me for my reaction.

"So I would be spending time with you while you're away from your family?" I run my thumb nervously over our joined hands.

"Ideally, if she approves of you. I do get terribly lonely having no one to hold each night, but Tana has other commitments and she can't just follow me around as I travel the world," he pauses, leaning into my side. 

"I'm sure she will like you. She and I are a lot alike. If I love you, she will too," he consoles me. 

I give him a smile but feel weak at the thought of meeting his wife. All of this new information swirls around in my mind. At first, I'd only been concerned with if Gordon liked me or not. Now that I know that he does, I have a whole new roadblock to deal with. Maybe even a bigger one than Gordon himself. She could easily make or break our relationship with a single word. As I mull over the thought, I get more and more worried. I try to push the anxiety down and enjoy my last few moments with Gordon before I have to go back to faking that we're nothing more than mentor and student.

"Let's go, my darling. We have to get back to everyone else. It's been an hour," he nods to the clock in the corner once more.

Sighing, I get up off the bed.

"You go ahead of me and go to your room, shut off the water and make it look like the towels were used. I'll meet you on the roof with everyone else, yeah?" he says calmly.

"Sure, OK," I nod as I walk to the door.

"(Y/N?)"

"Yes?"

"I love you," he proclaims as his blue eyes follow me from his seat on the bed.

"I love you too, Gordon," I blush as I shoot him one last smile over my shoulder before turning the doorknob and stepping into the hallway, closing the door to his room behind me.


	42. July 4th Part 4/4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epic conclusion to our 4th of July!

Thursday, July 4th, 2013

When I hear the door click shut, I run to the red team's room and open the door. I can just barely make out the outline of someone laying on the bed, slightly obscured by the bathroom wall next to the entrance to the room. 

With my breath caught in my throat, I quietly open the bathroom door, remove the hanging 'do not disturb' sign and step inside. The figure on the bed didn't seem to move when I opened the door, which is good. Maybe they didn't hear anything.

As I enter the bathroom, I look around. The cold water is still running and my wet towel is still hung up on the towel rack. Everything looks the same, except one small, teeny-tiny detail. On the countertop, I see my clothes that I'd previously thrown into a lounge chair on the roof. I definitely didn't bring those down with me, so someone had to have done it for me. Plus, they would have had to enter the bathroom to put it on the countertop, and inevitably they would see that I wasn't actually in the shower.

At the same moment, I hear a knock on the bathroom door.

"(Y/N)?" Taylor's voice comes through over the sounds of the shower water.

All at once, I relax.

"Good God Taylor, you scared the shit out of me," I say as I open the door. She's in her normal clothes now and is smiling at me widely.

"Don't worry, I just wanted to cover for you by making sure no one tried to get into the bathroom. I even brought your clothes down!" She bounces on her toes happily.

"Well, thank you, I hope you haven't been sitting here too long?" I give her an apologetic look.

She shrugs. "It was sorta boring, especially considering the dang TV doesn't work. Gordon really takes his no outside influence rule seriously. But honestly I'd do it again easy to help a sister out," she says with a wink, then leans in closer to me. 

"Can you tell me about what happened?" her brown eyes sparkle.

"Sure, but give me a moment to get dressed," I say.

She nods and backs away from the door and I close it. I turn off the shower and slip off my bikini, donning my shorts and shirt instead. I didn't bring a pair of underwear, so I'll have to go commando to avoid getting wet marks from my suit onto my shorts. I open the door and head to where Taylor is lounging on the bed. She pushes herself up to a sitting position resting against the headboard as I sit down next to her.

"Soooo?" she says anxiously, unable to hide her excitement.

I feel my cheeks begin to turn pink.

"Oh my God, you didn't!" her eyes grow wide as she puts her hand against her chest, "No way! You didn't!"

I nod to her, a bashful smile creeping onto my lips.

She exhales heavily and slumps against the headboard. "Woah..."

"It was pretty much the best time I've ever had in my whole life," I say sincerely. 

Taylor reaches her hand over the bed and takes mine in hers eagerly. Her hand is just a bit smaller than mine and provides a huge contrast to Gordon's earlier. 

I hesitate, wondering if I should tell her of Gordon's profession of love. I do trust Taylor, especially after all she's done for me, but she seems really excitable and I'm not sure if she'd be able to keep a straight face around him if she knew that we did more than just sleep together.

After mulling it over a bit, I decide not to tell her. At least not yet. Letting her know about us has already got her excited enough. But telling her about his plans with Tana can't hurt, and maybe Tay can help me feel a bit less anxious.

"He wants me to meet his wife," I say uncertainly, looking ahead to the blank screen of the TV.

"Really? That's pretty crazy! Especially now that you guys..." she starts to blush and giggles.

"Yeah, I'm pretty anxious about it. More anxious than I've ever been," I sigh.

"He must want to be more serious with you. I'm certain he wouldn't ask you to meet her if he didn't want your relationship to go somewhere," she muses.

I nod, biting my lower lip. I can feel that it's still a bit sore from Gordon's gentle bite earlier.

"You're gonna do awesome, alright? Tana is a really cool person from what I've seen of her on TV. Just be brave," Taylor squeezes my hand reassuringly.

"Thanks, Tay," I give her a small smile. 

"Do you think we ought to join everyone again?" she tilts her head.

"Yeah, let's head back to the roof," I agree.

Taylor and I both walk to the door. I open the door for her and bow.

"After you, my lady!" I say cheekily.

She hops through to the other side of the door with one leap and holds out her arm to me. I take her arm with mine and we head back up to the rooftop together.

When the elevator dings, we unlace our arms before we step out onto the rooftop.

The next six hours fly by in a flurry of free drinks, chatter, watching people swim in the pool and trying not to stare at Gordon as he socializes with everyone else. The sun disappears under the skyline of the city and lights turn on over the bar and inside the pool.

"Give me one minute guys, I'm going to bring out your surprise for tonight to the roof," Gordon says happily before he goes to the elevator and presses the call button. 

When Gordon steps inside and starts to descend, I see Bella approach me from my seat at the bar. I have to be extra cautious with her, especially now.

"Hey, (Y/N), where were you?" she asks innocently as she pulls out a barstool and sits next to me, a long island ice tea gripped in one hand, a cigarette dangling from between her fingers of her other hand. 

"I was right here?" I say, deciding to play dumb.

She rolls her eyes. "No, I mean like, earlier. When you disappeared for like an hour."

"Oh, I took a shower and got some room service. Taylor joined me a while later and we ate together," I shrug.

Her eyes squint as she looks me over, trying to find a crack in my story.

"You didn't happen to see Gordon down there, did you? He was missing for around about the same time that you were."

I curl my nails into my palm.

"Nope, I didn't see him. Why do you ask? Couldn't you find him yourself?" I say.

"Well, I went to the room to try and see if he was there, but Dave came with me and decided to show me the blue team's room instead," she tosses a sultry gaze over my shoulder to where Dave is sitting with his legs in the pool, talking to Pietro. Pietro lets out a big belly laugh at something Dave says.

So Bella and Dave were fucking in the room right next to where Ramsay and I were... I feel a chill as I remember how loud I had been during certain moments. Especially the parts where I'd called out his name. 

But then I think about how I hadn't heard anything from the room even though I know Bella must be the type to let out a lot of exaggeratedly loud moans. Dave also likely didn't last nearly as long as Ramsay did, since I didn't see either of them when I'd left the room. I feel a smug sense of satisfaction as I mull over my thoughts.

The sound of a straw sipping on air snaps me back to reality. Bella has finished off her drink. Just how many drinks has she had anyway? I don't think I've seen her without a glass in her hand. She orders another drink as the elevator doors slide open.

Behind Chef Ramsay there are three men dressed in grass skirts with large tiki masks on. Each of the men wields a wooden pole with an opening on either end. Gordon grins as he leads the men onto the rooftop. At the same moment that the men step out, the first firework of the night explodes in the darkening sky.

"For your entertainment, I've brought three of the most amazing fire dancers to put on a show while we all relax and enjoy the fireworks from our beautiful private rooftop!" Gordon claps his hands together as the men set up their fire sticks. 

Everyone moves closer, some of them turning lounge chairs to better face the spectacle. I turn around at the bar and lean my elbows onto the countertop behind me. Bella gets up from beside me and heads over to the lounge chair that Dave is sitting in and scoots him over, laying with her arm draped over his chest and one leg curled around his leg. She holds out her cigarette to his lips and he takes a puff, blowing out the smoke into the air. I'm incredibly jealous of the fact that she can just go lay all over her man, while I can't so much as stand next to Gordon for too long without causing speculation. 

The fire dancers light each end of their fire sticks and begin twirling them over their heads in tandem. A tribal music beat starts up over the speakers at the bar, and the fire dancers stomp their feet in time to the drums while effortlessly wielding their fire sticks in a masterful display of light. Fireworks begin to pick up over the Los Angeles skyline, shooting beautiful colors behind the bright flames of the torches.

Gordon leaves from the front of the fire dancers and comes up to the bar, pulls out a barstool beside me and orders a Budweiser.

Really? Gordon Ramsay wants to drink that piss water? I give him a sideways glance while raising one eyebrow. 

"I know what you're thinking, and yes, I do prefer this drink. Sue me," he smiles.

"I just didn't expect it is all," I say, shrugging and trying not to tease him over his choice too harshly.

"It's just a small pleasure of mine. I don't drink often at all, so a beer here and there is all that I allow myself," he pops open the tab and takes a sip.

Gordon and I watch the fire dancers and the fireworks together. He nudges me slightly with his elbow when he sees a particularly large firework go off over us. When I look over to him he's staring into the sky with childlike wonder etched into his features. I wonder how a man who has always looked at least 35 his whole adult life can exude such youth in his expressions. We both enjoy the fireworks and each other's company in contented silence.

Once the fireworks end, the fire dancers blow out their torches at the same time and we all clap. They wave to us as they enter the elevator and the doors close on them.

Gordon sighs and gives me a sorrowful look as he pushes himself up from the barstool. I feel the same way- after we leave here, it's back to endless cameras, microphones and no way to be together. At least it's only three days until Sunday. Hopefully, Gordon can find a way for us to sneak away then. 

"Let's get ready to head back to Hell's Kitchen, everyone. Our mustangs await," he says as he approaches the elevator and waits for it to arrive.

All of us line up near him and wait until the inevitable ding announces the arrival of the elevator. We step inside. I watch the chandelier of the main lobby pass us by as the elevator takes us to the ground floor.

We exit the building and hop into our mustangs that are dutifully waiting for us outside. Gordon once again sits next to me, and in the darkness of the night, he squeezes my thigh as he sits down. Thankfully, Pietro is chatting to the driver and Taylor is looking out behind us at the rest of everyone else waiting for our mustang cavalry to charge from the building. 

The Mustangs take us through the streets of LA much too quickly for my liking. I press myself into Gordon's arm, savoring each fleeting second as we draw ever closer to Hell's Kitchen.


	43. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hell's Kitchen picks up filming again, and our next challenge faces you!

Friday, July 5th, 2013

The morning after the 4th, there are an exceeding number of groans from the beds. Both Bella and Gina show clear signs of a hangover. Thankfully I didn't drink too much, so I don't have to deal with the aftermath of having a good time.

We'd gotten back to Hell's Kitchen at around 10pm and headed straight for bed. Gordon and I tried our best to not be suspicious and merely told each other goodnight before parting.

When I sit up in bed, Taylor gives me a knowing grin from where she's peeked her head out from under her covers. I feel a rush as I realize that last night truly did happen. Gordon Ramsay confessed his love to me. He wants me to be with him. He wants me to meet his wife.

My muscles tense up. I wonder when he's going to have us meet. Will it be this Sunday? 

What do I even say to her? I would have never imagined myself in this position where now I have to confess to a woman I've never met that her husband and I are in love and have slept together. It's like walking into a war zone soaked in gasoline with a giant beacon over my head and a pocket full of grenades. Anything could go wrong and completely ruin my chances with Gordon- she may even get me kicked off Hell's Kitchen entirely. I try to swallow the lump forming in my throat. 

I get up out of bed and change into my chef's jacket, running my fingers over my name embroidered on the chest. I belong here. I was invited here for a purpose. That purpose has grown to be even greater than a shot at being Gordon's head chef in London. I've been given the opportunity to be loved by the most handsome, intimidating, powerful man I've ever met. My heart flutters as I picture his sincere look as he reminded me of his love for me before I closed the door on his room last night. 

Everything is going to work out. I just have to let myself believe that.

Bella is unusually quiet at breakfast, she pushes her eggs around the plate with her fork and holds her stomach with her other arm. Gina manages to eat her food, then goes to lay down in bed before we're called downstairs.

This time it's Sous Chef Scott who retrieves us from upstairs.

"Come on down guys, Chef Ramsay has a new challenge prepared for you!" he shouts, spurring us to move. 

I quickly put away my plate and join everyone standing outside of the kitchens. Chef Ramsay runs his fingers through his hair before smiling at us all and clasping his hands together in front of him. There is a large black curtain behind him, obscuring our next challenge.

"Good morning, Chefs!" he says excitedly.

"Good morning, Chef!" we respond.

"After a long relaxing day, I hope you all are well rested and prepared for your next challenge." His eyes sweep over us all before he moves to stand next to the black curtain. With one fell swoop, he pulls the curtain away to reveal a carnival booth complete with multicolored balloons tied to a corkboard wall. To further the carnival feel, Jean-Philippe is wearing a colorful rainbow wig and a red clown nose standing behind the countertop that holds each team's darts. When we all look at him he honks the nose with a smile. A few of the red team members snicker among themselves at how absolutely ridiculous JP looks in his clown getup.

"In these balloons are ingredients that each of you will be using to make a dish. Proteins are in the red balloons, vegetables are in the green balloons and in the white balloons, you will find your carbs. Every ingredient you get, someone has to use in their dish," he instructs us all.

"I'll explain a bit further. Each person will have three darts. If you fail to get at least two balloons popped, you will be given one extra dart. Preferably, you will try to get one protein, one vegetable, and one carb ingredient. However, you are welcome to trade one ingredient with one of your teammates. Try to help each other out, because the team with the most pleasing dishes will win this challenge. Now, if we're ready, will the first two chefs please step up to the booth?" Gordon steps back and opens his arm towards the carnival booth with a grin.

Pietro and Red step up to the booth. JP stands in the far corner, away from the dartboard. 

"Be sure to throw your darts one at a time and give JP time to collect the paper that falls out, we don't want him getting impaled now, do we?" Gordon jokes. JP shoots him a worried glance.

Pietro grabs his first dart and throws it, popping a white balloon. JP picks it up and announces the carb, brown rice. He throws his second dart and gets a red balloon that JP reveals it as being salmon. Pietro throws his final dart and gets a green balloon. JP reads off asparagus from the scroll of dropped paper then hands over the papers to Pietro.

Gordon cycles through each of the chefs fairly quickly. Red managed to get two proteins and one vegetable, Bella gets all three colors, Gina misses two darts and ends up with only a protein and a vegetable while Taylor ends up with two vegetables and one carb. 

On the blue team, Abel and Garrett hit all three colors, Dave somehow hits three carbs, Shaun hits two proteins and a carb and Kalyani misses two darts, leaving her with only a protein and a carb.

I take a deep breath as Kalyani steps back from the counter. My turn and almost half the balloons are already popped. The protein balloons are the least plentiful and the most important. I'll have to aim very carefully. Gordon gives me an encouraging smile from the sidelines, which relaxes me a bit. 

I carefully line up my first toss and throw it, aiming for a red balloon. It dips just a bit short and pops a green balloon just below it. JP unravels the paper and announces that I've gotten green beans as my vegetable. I try to steady my breathing and aim for the same red balloon. With a satisfying pop, the red balloon shrivels up under my dart. JP takes the paper out and reads off my protein- rack of lamb. The corner of my lips draw up into a smile. So far everything I have is perfect. I just have to get lucky on my carb. 

I roll my final dart between my fingers and aim for a white balloon like my life depends on it. Gordon watches with just as much intensity as I feel. I send the dart flying. 

**POP**

A green balloon crinkles as the air escapes it. Gordon gives me an apologetic glance as JP picks up the paper.

"Cauliflower, Chef," JP says, then hands me the scraps of paper that make up my ingredients.

Well, it's not ideal, but at least I'm not without a protein. I take my papers and head back to the chef lineup.

Gordon begins to draw the curtain back over the booth. JP, who had been picking up scraps of balloon off the floor, pops his head over the countertop and gives Gordon a confused look. As Gordon approaches JP, he pushes the top of JP's poofy rainbow wig back down under the countertop and closes the curtain entirely with a playful grin. 

"Well? Go on and deliberate over who's trading what ingredients. You have five minutes!" Chef Ramsay waves us into the kitchens. 


	44. Mystery Ingredients Challenge Part 1/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our mystery ingredients challenge is underway!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to update on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays! :D So be on the lookout!

Friday, July 5th, 2013

The red team groups up together and each of us lay out the ingredients we'd popped. I lay out my labeled pieces of paper- green beans, rack of lamb and cauliflower. Honestly, I can probably use all of these and make something delicious, but just in case someone needs one of my vegetables, I offer them up to the group.

Eventually, we settle on everyone's ingredients. Red ends up with pork belly, couscous, and peas. Gina stares woefully at her duck breast and squash flowers. Taylor traded her peas to Red in exchange for her Chilean sea bass, adding to her other two ingredients- yams and chickpeas. Bella decided that she didn't want to share and kept her ingredients to herself. Typical Bella. Thankfully, my budding ideas for what I can potentially cook aren't put to waste, as no one asks for my ingredients.

Gordon claps his hands.

"Time! Everyone, you will have forty-five minutes to produce a dish using only the ingredients you've popped from the balloons or traded for. Your challenge begins.... now!" 

All of us rush to grab our ingredients then take them to our individual stations. 

Immediately, the image of my completed dish forms in my mind. Riced cauliflower under a basil-crusted pan-seared rack of lamb and with a side of green bean goat cheese gratin. 

I quickly set one oven to 300 degrees and a second oven to 400. I put a pot of water and a cast iron pan on the stove to begin heating as well. My cauliflower and the bread for the gratin will both need the food processor, so I start with the bread first. I tear the bread into large pieces, pulse it three or four times in the processor and then drizzle some olive oil over the crumbs before adding Parmesan cheese and pulsing it again. 

After finishing with the bread crumbs, I cut the cauliflower in pieces and place it in the food processor, pulsing until it resembles rice. I set the cauliflower aside and wipe my hands on my apron. Gordon walks through the kitchens and examines everyone's work.

"Looking good so far, (Y/N)," he says as he leans over my shoulder to see what I'm making.

"Thanks, Chef," I grin as I cut my green beans crosswise into thirds. 

The pot of water is at a rolling boil now, so I put the green beans inside and cover the lid. The beans will need four minutes to cook, so in the meantime, I lay down the rack of lamb onto a sheet tray and season it with salt and pepper.

Once the lamb is seasoned, I score the fatty sides and take it over to the heated pan. I dribble in some grapeseed oil and wait for it to smoke, then I add the lamb rack to the pan, bone side up with the rack resting on the edge of the pan. I use the bone to turn the lamb and sear each side for sixty seconds. Then, I add thyme, garlic, and butter to the pan and baste the entire rack for another minute. Once that's done, I take the lamb- still in the cast iron pan- and put it into the oven that was preheated to 300 degrees. The lamb will need about twelve minutes in the oven and fifteen minutes to rest. I should be just on time.

My green beans are done, so I quickly take them out of the boiling water, douse them in cold water to stop them from cooking further, and pat them dry. Then I toss them together with some crumbled goat cheese, whipping cream, salt, pepper, and Parmesan cheese. Finally, I put the mixture into a shallow baking bowl, cover it with aluminum foil and set it on a baking sheet before I pop it in the oven set to 400 degrees for about 20 minutes. 

"Thirty minutes remain!" Gordon shouts through the kitchens. 

Once my lamb time is done, I pull it from the oven and brush each side with a light coating of Dijon mustard and let it sit for two minutes. Once the mustard is absorbed, I pour the basil crust I'd made earlier onto a flat pan and roll my lamb in it- the mustard helps to act as an adhesive for the delicious crumbs. After the lamb is properly coated, I wrap it in aluminum foil and set it to the side to rest for fifteen minutes. 

I start a second pan heating in preparation for my riced cauliflower. 

My green beans should be ready for their crumb topping now. I pull it out of the oven, remove the aluminum foil, sprinkle it with the crumbs and then recover it and pop it back in the oven for another eight minutes. 

Finally, the easiest part. I grab my bowl of riced cauliflower and take it to the stove. I heat a dash of olive oil over medium heat and then pour the cauliflower in. I saute it for about four minutes, adding in salt, pepper and a dash of lime juice. 

Once the cauliflower is done cooking, I take the tray and set it aside. Then I pull out the green beans from the oven and set them to rest as well.

"Ten minutes left, come on everyone! Taylor, is your sea bass ready?" Gordon shouts.

"Yes Chef, it's resting!" she responds.

"Good, good," Ramsay says as he clasps his hands behind his back and continues moving through the kitchen.

When we get down to the final two minutes, Gordon shouts for us to begin plating.

I know I promised to him that I wouldn't disappoint him with my presentation after setting a high bar, and I know I have to keep those high standards.

"Thirty seconds left, hurry!" Gordon urges us as he starts to head for the front of the kitchens.

I carefully set the riced cauliflower down on the plate in the center, put the green beans on the side and then cut my lamb and set it pleasingly on the plate. 

"Five, four, three..." Gordon counts.

I put the finishing touches on my dish and set the lid over the top of it right at the same moment that Gordon calls out-

"Time!" 

I hold my breath and look around to my competitors. It seems everyone has completed their dish, now I just have to hope that mine pulls in a point for our team.


	45. Mystery Ingredients Challenge Part 2/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who will win the mystery ingredients challenge?!

Friday, July 5th, 2013

Gordon stands in the middle of the dining room behind the judging table as we each line up next to our dishes.

"Now, the blue team has one extra dish that I will not be judging. Please decide among yourselves who's dish will be sitting out," Gordon requests.

The blue team group together to deliberate. It only takes about a minute before Kalyani speaks up.

"Chef, we're leaving out mine. I didn't get enough ingredients to make a truly great dish," she sighs.

Gordon nods.

"Well, now that that's decided, I'll let you all know that I am not going to be the only one judging your dishes. I've invited two prestigious chefs to assist me in judging. First, let's welcome a woman who has spent a lifetime committing herself to finding new and unique ways to pair food together, giving her a distinct advantage in judging this particular competition. She's also the owner of the Micheline starred restaurant, N-Naka here in Los Angeles. Please welcome Niki Nakayama!" 

Gordon holds his arm out to the door as Chef Niki pushes it open and steps to the judging table, shaking Gordon's hand and receiving a greeting kiss on the cheek from him.

"Next up is someone I'm sure you will all recognize. My esteemed friend and owner of the world-renown restaurant, CUT. Please welcome Wolfgang Puck!"

Chef Ramsay starts clapping as the doors open. Chef Puck makes his way to the chef's table and shakes Gordon's hand enthusiastically. 

"Great to be here my friend," Wolfgang gives Gordon a genuine smile, then moves his eyes to scan the lineup of competing chefs.

Finally, a Chef I actually know! Wolfgang Puck never quite got my attention in the way that Chef Ramsay had- even before I knew him as I do now- but I have always respected Chef Puck. I find myself smiling at him when he passes his eyes over me.

"Each of us will rate your dish from one to five stars. The team to gather the most stars wins the competition. Now, let's have our first two chefs come up. Mary and Garrett, please." Gordon curls his finger towards himself, beckoning them forward. 

They each set their plates on the waist-height stands by the judging table. Red casts a glance back over her shoulder at us, and I give her a thumbs up. Surely Red can beat Garrett, he's not very good at finessing his dishes to look as appealing as I'm sure these Chefs expect.

"Let's have Garrett go first. What have you made for us?" Gordon tips his head.

Garrett clears his throat then sets his plate on the judges' table.

"I've prepared garlic rosemary lamb chops with fingerling potatoes and spinach."

Each of the chefs cuts off a bit of the lamb and takes a bite in turn.

"Wolfgang, what did you think of it?" Gordon inquires.

"Ehh, it was a little tough," Wolfgang says, picking at something between his teeth, "and a bit gamey."

Chef Niki nods. "Gamey and over-cooked. However, the seasoning was great. You could have benefited from five less minutes in the oven."

"What they said," Gordon gestures to the other two chefs, who laugh at his matter-of-fact tone.

"Are we ready with our ratings?" Ramsay inquires.

Each chef holds up a scorecard and turns it towards the camera. Garrett gets a three from Niki, a two from Wolfgang and a two from Gordon. 

Garrett takes back his plate and shrugs.

"Alright, Mary, what have you made for us?" Gordon holds out his hand for her plate.

"Chefs, I've made crispy pork belly on top of fine couscous with freshly cracked peas." 

Red slides the plate into Chef Ramsay's hand and each chef tries some.

"This pork belly is really, really good." Chef Niki says, her fork pointing towards the plate.

"And the presentation is lovely as well!" Chef Puck adds, smiling at her.

Red blushes and bows her head a bit, trying to hide her cheeks.

"Thanks, Chefs..." she says under her breath.

"Mary, they're right. Absolutely lovely. Let's see the scores." Gordon takes out his scorecard.

Each chef reveals their scores for Red- all three of them display black cards with four gold stars on them.

"Twelve stars, very nicely done Mary. Back in line, both of you." Gordon shoos them away and then calls out for the next two chefs to approach.

This time, Gina and Abel step forward.

"Abel, please describe your dish," Gordon requests.

"Absolutely Chef. I've made ginger-infused turkey meatballs with Chinese broccoli on a bed of hand made linguini pasta." Abel hands the dish forward then resumes his normal stance with his hands locked behind his back.

"Hand made?" Gordon raises an eyebrow.

"Yes, Chef. I had extra time and didn't want to waste it," Abel says simply.

Gordon nods, obviously impressed. Each of the chefs tries a bite.

"Magnificent. Where did you get this man? Fresh from the streets of Italy?" Wolfgang asks Chef Ramsay with a whimsical tone to his voice.

Ramsay chuckles, "The same place I got everyone else, my producers chose him. He's always quite impressed me. I'm thankful for having him here."

I can't see Abel's face, but I wonder if he's expressing any sort of emotion at receiving Ramsay's praise. He's always so proper, it's hard to get a read on him.

"I love it. Great work, chef Abel." Niki says when she finishes her bite.

"Let's see the scores," Gordon says as he pulls up his scorecard.

Each chef reveals their scores- Niki gives four stars, Wolfgang puts up five and Gordon also puts up a five.

"Excellent work, Abel, fourteen stars. Your score is definitely the score to beat. Come on now Gina, let's see what you've made." Gordon indicates for her to pass her dish over.

Gina hands over the dish then holds her hand out to shake each of the visiting Chef's hands.

"Great to meet you all. I've prepared a wonderful dish for you today, but I was left with only two ingredients so I had to stretch them." 

Wolfgang gives Gina a skeptical look, then looks to her plate.

"What I have for you today is a crispy seared duck breast with balsamic sauce and a side of oven-roasted squash flowers," Gina continues, ignoring Chef Puck's look.

Each chef tries a bite then sits back.

"I thought the balsamic sauce was a bit overpowering. There was too much of it," Niki says.

"The squash flowers were too plain. I did enjoy the duck, though." Chef Puck says, scooting up in his chair.

"Indeed you had a bit too much sauce, Gina. But overall, not bad. Let's get your score." Gordon leans under the table to grab his scorecard.

Each Chef displays their card- a two from Niki, a two from Wolfgang and a three from Gordon.

Gina huffs and takes her plate back, trying to conceal a scowl when she turns back around to head back to the line.

"Come on, next two, hurry up!" Gordon shouts for us to approach.

It's my turn, and I feel intense trepidation as I get closer to the Chef's table, Pietro trailing behind me. Not only will Gordon be appraising my dish, his good friend Wolfgang will be too, and I do respect both of their opinions immensely. I don't yet know Niki, but she seems to have a great palate as well. Never in my life did I think I'd have three world-famous chefs eating my food. Hopefully, I won't disappoint them.

"Pietro first, please explain your dish to us," Gordon looks to his dish.

"Hey, Chefs," Pietro starts, "I've made pan-seared skin-on salmon on a bed of curried brown rice and asparagus."

He proudly passes over his plate.

After tasting, Gordon is the first to speak.

"Excellent, excellent work on the skin of the salmon and the salmon itself. I see you took what I taught you to heart. I love to see my teachings put to work." He grins at Pietro, who shuffles his feet bashfully.

"Aww, thanks Chef," he says, his grin clearly evident in his voice.

"Chef Ramsay is right, you did perfectly well on the skin. Unfortunately, the rice is a bit grainy. I know it can be hard to cook brown rice, but you have to be diligent and find that perfect sweet spot," Niki explains.

"The asparagus is delicious, I love the flavor of asparagus with curried brown rice. I'll have to make this myself!"Chef Puck puffs up in his seat with a big smile.

"Let's get our stars tallied, shall we?" Gordon requests before reaching for his scorecard.

Pietro gets a three from Niki, a four from Wolfgang and a four from Ramsay. Pietro seems incredibly pleased from his spot next to me, his face beaming with happiness.

"Alright, (Y/N), please explain your dish to us," Gordon locks eyes with me, a barely visible grin playing across his lips. I don't know if it's the anticipation of being judged by such prestigious chefs or being so close to the man who I'm in a tantalizing secret relationship with, but I have to consciously force myself to keep my hands from shaking as I hand the dish over. 

"G- Chefs, I've made riced cauliflower under a basil-crusted pan-seared rack of lamb with a side of green bean goat cheese gratin. Please enjoy." I stiffly put my hands at my sides as the chefs each try some of my dish. I'd very nearly started off my sentence with 'Gordon'. The way he looks at me makes me feel like we're alone in the room together, and it almost slipped out. I'd probably be able to play it off, but still, everything is being recorded and I have to stop letting my emotions cloud my thoughts.

Chef Puck dabs a napkin at his lips. "Perfectly cooked. I don't generally like goat cheese but the way it's mixed in with these green beans makes it almost melt in my mouth. Smart idea, (Y/N)." Wolfgang gives me a grin.

"The basil crust is lovely on this lamb and I love the idea of ricing the cauliflower. Did you not get a carb?" Niki inquires.

"No, but I made do with my two vegetables," I respond.

"That you did," she agrees while nodding to herself.

"A very unique dish, (Y/N). I love the lamb, it's an amazing temperature. The riced cauliflower was a clever touch and your green beans are cooked perfectly. Let's see everyone's scores." Gordon reaches under the table yet again for his scorecards.

I feel myself begin to smile as the scores are revealed. A four from Niki, a four from Wolfgang and a five from Ramsay. 

Falling just one star short from the highest-rated dish is pretty amazing, I feel bubbly as I take my dish back from Gordon's hand.

"Excellent work, (Y/N) and Pietro. Back in line now, yeah?" Gordon sends us back to the chef's lineup.

"Both teams are tied currently. Let's have our next two chefs come up, please."

Bella and Shaun step out of line, carrying their plates with them.

"Shaun, would you please describe your dish," Gordon asks as he opens his palm towards the plate.

Shaun hands the dish over while explaining it. "I've made bacon-wrapped swordfish on top of mixed long grain rice and lentils."

"Bacon? On a swordfish?" Niki looks incredulous.

"Yes, ma'am." Shaun nods, completely at ease.

Niki shrugs and tries a bite along with the other chefs.

She leans back and puts her fork down.

"Well, I didn't expect it, but it's delicious. The protein is, at least. The rice was a bit flavorless but I never would have guessed that I love swordfish wrapped in bacon!" Niki claps her hands in delight.

Wolfgang holds up his fork in the air, "It's great, Shaun. But you spent a little too much love on the fish and not so much love on the rice."

"The rice is plain indeed, but the fish is excellent and highly creative. Shall we vote?" Gordon asks the other chefs, who nod.

Niki holds up three stars, Wolfgang holds up three and Gordon holds up three. Shaun takes his plate back and looks to Bella, waiting for her turn.

Bella lays her plate down on the table with an exaggerated curtsy, lowering her head down to where she's nearly looking at the tablecloth.

While she's not looking, Gordon flicks his eyes to me and rolls them exasperatedly. I quickly cover my mouth to keep myself from giggling.

"Today I have a delicious treat for you all, I've made Mediterranean shrimp kabobs with fresh sliced mushrooms over a bed of quinoa!" She finishes describing her dish and puts her hands together at her stomach, jutting her breasts forward. Thankfully the jacket doesn't show much, but she still puts forth the effort.

Each judge tries a bite, ending with Ramsay.

"I love kebabs," Niki starts, "but they don't go very well with quinoa, I'm not exactly sure how I'm supposed to get a bite of kebab and quinoa while the shrimp is on a stick."

Wolfgang tuts, "So what, it's a bit hard to eat, it's delicious!"

Gordon shrugs. "It was actually very well cooked, I just wish it made a bit more sense. You might have benefited by simply mixing the ingredients all together instead of going with the kebab approach."

Bella groans. "I knew it! I'm sorry!"

Wolfgang consoles her, "Don't be sorry my dear, it's still very good!" He reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder over the judges' table. She looks up at him and gives a huge, beaming smile. 

"Thank you, Mr. Puck," she says, letting a sultry tone slide into her voice.

"Everyone ready to vote?" Ramsay snaps Bella back from her flirting. 

Niki holds up three stars, Wolfgang holds up four and Ramsay holds up three. When Bella walks back into line she swings her hips, most likely trying to entice Wolfgang and Ramsay both. I wonder how Dave puts up with her constantly throwing herself at other men.

Last up are Dave and Taylor, who both step up when Ramsay beckons them.

"Red team is currently leading by just one point. Dave, please explain your dish to the judges," Gordon asks.

Dave adjusts his collar. "Ahem, well, I've made cheddar baked chicken with beetroot sauce over the top and kidney beans underneath."

The chefs all try a bite of his dish. I can't help but notice Chef Puck twinge.

"I think the earthy taste of the beet sauce is completely at disharmony with the cheddar tang. It's just too different." Chef Puck says before taking a big drink of his water.

"The flavors definitely clash together," Chef Niki agrees.

"I can barely get the flavor out of my mouth. Hopefully, the next dish isn't affected by yours still lingering on my taste buds. Can we all vote now?" Ramsay asks.

Dave gets a measly two stars from Chef Niki and Chef Puck, and Ramsay puts salt into the wound with only one star.

When Taylor hands over her dish, Ramsay quips, "You won't really have to do too very well my darling, Dave set the bar quite low. Go on and describe your dish, then."

Dave stares at his feet. I can see the back of his neck reddening even from where I'm standing.

Taylor hands her plate over to the judges and describes what she's made.

"I've seared some Chilean sea bass with a bed of yams and chickpeas," she states calmly, but that calmness is wiped away when Chef Ramsay lets out a big sigh.

"It's raw, Taylor. Look. Look," he holds the fish open to her. She leans in and grimaces.

"Come on, it's so simple!" He groans, "How could you do this to your team when you had ample time to cook it?"

"Chef I- I just didn't want it to be overcooked is all. I swear!" Taylor nervously draws back from the table, twiddling her fingers together in front of her.

"Don't eat it, everyone. This one is defaulting to a one. Which, surprisingly, makes the blue team the winners. Sorry to disappoint you today, Chefs." Gordon lifts his shoulders and drops them when he faces the other two Chefs.

"It's no problem Gordon, thank you for inviting us!" Chef Puck grasps his hand and shakes it firmly before turning to leave. Chef Niki kisses Gordon's cheeks and waves to us before joining Wolfgang in his exit.

"Blue team, are you in for a t-r-e-a-t!" Gordon enunciates each letter as he spells out the word.

"I'm sending you all to Bel-Air to learn candy making under a true master of their craft, Chef Lyanne Kermsoff! Anything you make you get to keep, and not only that, but you also have a present waiting for you upstairs, go on and get it!" Gordon dismisses the blue team, who happily jump and skip their way up the stairs to the dorms. Gordon then looks back to us, his brow furrowing.

"Right- red team. Today is delivery day, and it's going to be truly backbreaking work, let me tell you. We have a sixty-seven-pound tuna coming in along with the near-endless flow of food for restocking our kitchens. Please bring everything in when you hear the delivery truck horn. The horns will be sounding throughout the day. You'll also need to chop up the tuna into fillets and prep both kitchens for service tonight, right? So get on it, the first delivery truck should be arriving..." Chef Ramsay looks at his watch, and within just a few seconds, a horn sounds outside, "Now! Don't keep them waiting!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ||Author's Note: I've decided on where everyone is from, I'll add this info to earlier chapters soon!
> 
> Women:  
> Gina - Denver, Colorado  
> Mary (Red) - Immigrated from Ireland to Portland, Maine  
> Bella - Seattle, Washington  
> Cindy - Montgomery, Alabama  
> Gail - Dodge City, Kansas  
> Kalyani - Kodiak, Alaska  
> Taylor - Oklahoma City, Oklahoma  
> ========
> 
> Men:  
> Dylan - Cedar City, Utah  
> Abel- Houston, Texas  
> Alex - Lansing, Michigan  
> Dave - Poplar Bluff, Missouri  
> Garrett - New York, New York  
> Pietro - Immigrated from Italy to Hillsboro, Oregon  
> Shaun - New Orleans, Louisiana  
> Jay - Chicago, Illinois 
> 
> Thank you for your help~ ||


	46. Dammit, Taylor!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Punishment time comes 'round again ;(

Friday, July 5th, 2013

Taylor casts a hugely apologetic look as she steps up next to me while the red team filters outside to carry our first load indoors. 

"I'm so, so sorry (Y/N), I know this was my fault. I won't screw up again like that!" She bites her lower lip to keep it from trembling and sniffles.

I shrug, trying to not betray my fears that she might have just gotten herself a one-way ticket to the chopping block. "I mean, it happens. You can't beat yourself up about it too much about it, I just hope everyone else doesn't try to use it against you to get you out of here- you have to do perfectly on service tonight, alright?" I say as I step down the stairs in front of Hell's Kitchen and approach the delivery truck.

Taylor nods fiercely. "I won't let you and the team down. I'll pull extra weight today just so everyone knows I accept that I screwed up."

Gina signs the delivery form while Red opens the back of the truck. It's kind of comical trying to watch Red lift the roll-up door while being so short- she has to jump to get it to finish sliding all the way open. 

Inside of the truck, there are boxes upon boxes and in the very middle, resting on a bed of ice, is our huge tuna.

"That thing is bigger than my dog!" Gina exclaims, her hands on her hips as she eyeballs the hulking fish.

Just then, the doors to Hell's Kitchen open and the blue team comes filtering outside, happily bounding down the steps.

"Have a great time, ladies! Don't touch my new blender upstairs!" Garrett calls out as he approaches the Hell's Kitchen SUV that will be taking the blue team to their reward.

Gina turns to Garrett with a smirk. "Don't be surprised if it smells like blended tuna when you get back, asshole!"

"Ooh! Ouch!" Garrett flicks his hand quickly through the air, feigning having been burned. He then hops into the SUV and blows a kiss out the window. Gina responds by 'catching' said kiss and throwing it to the ground, grinding it into the asphalt with the heel of her shoe.

Taylor and I step into the truck and try to take hold of the fish. It's very slippery and unwieldy, there isn't much of anything to hold on to.

Bella stands outside of the delivery truck and stares at us while we work.

"Are you going to help, Bella?" I ask, strain in my voice as I try to lift the huge fish.

"Yeah, well, I have a hangover, I might throw up if I try to do too much," Bella whines.

Gina- who had been attempting to lift a box- tosses a glare over her shoulder at Bella.

"I have a hangover too, and yet I'm still helping. Get your lazy ass in here and do something useful."

Bella huffs and cradles her stomach for a moment longer before she steps into the truck and begins shuffling boxes around towards the front.

Taylor and I finally lift the tuna and begin to carry it off the truck.

"Bella, can you hold the middle?" I ask.

"Ugh, fine," she glowers before moving to lift the midsection of the colossal fish.

We carry it inside and lay it on the end table of the red kitchen. I lean over and put my hands on my knees, taking some deep breaths. Gina stretches and cracks her back.

"This shit sucks," Gina complains before we head back outside.

In stark contrast with Taylor- who is moving boxes in record time- Bella helps as little as humanly possible. She scoots boxes from the back of the truck to the front and only helps to carry things inside if someone directly asks her to. 

In-between deliveries, I try to work on filleting the giant tuna. Honestly, it doesn't truly feel like work to me when I'm filleting the massive fish. It's almost fun, in fact. Bella disappears from the kitchens and lazes around upstairs until the horn sounds for more deliveries to be brought inside. 

Sous Chef Christina oversees our kitchen prep and lets us know where to put the deliveries as they arrive. Four delivery trucks come and go before the horns finally stop blaring. The clock shows 5pm. The blue team will be getting back to Hell's Kitchen soon. 

We've almost finished prepping the kitchens. Bella is finally attempting to help, but she's so slow it's painful to watch. Gina has recovered from her hangover and is helping to set up the stations, so I know Bella's hangover should have been gone by now. She's still playing it up though, clutching her stomach and dry heaving occasionally when Christina tries to push her to work harder. 

The men and Kalyani finally come back to the kitchens when there are just a few minutes left until service is expected to begin. Each of them carries a goodie bag with delicious confectioners chocolates inside.

The men happily head past us to get changed into their jackets, while Kalyani stays behind in the kitchens with us for a moment.

"I never knew so much went into making chocolates," Kalyani begins while standing in the doorway from the kitchens to the hallway that leads to the dorms, "it was really informative. I wouldn't mind telling you guys about what I learned later if you like."

Red nods her head. "Yes please, anything you learned, even if it doesn't help out in Hell's Kitchen, I'm sure will help us out some time! Plus, we miss you over here on the red team," Red pouts.

Kalyani smiles widely. "I'll be sure to share everything I learned with you guys later! I'm going to go get dressed for service now! Good luck, girls."

Kalyani happily makes her way down the hallway back to the dorms while I put the finishing touches on the blue kitchen's meat station. 

Hopefully, Taylor can kill it on tonight's service. She's hanging by a thread after that dismal score on the mystery ingredients challenge and I really, _really_ don't want anyone to have an excuse to try and eliminate her.


	47. The Eigth Dinner Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of our most dramatic dinner services yet approaches!

Friday, July 5th, 2013

The blue team arrives back in the kitchens at the same moment that Chef Ramsay emerges from his office and approaches the head of the kitchen.

"Everyone ready for a fantastic service?" he shouts into the kitchens.

"Yes, Chef!" we respond heartily.

"Excellent! Jean-Philippe, please do me the honor of opening Hell's Kitchen."

Jean-Philippe responds with a quick, "Oui, Chef," before heading for the doors and letting in a stream of hungry, well-dressed customers.

All of us stand at our stations. Today I've been assigned to appetizers with Bella, the ever-persistent pain in my neck. Gina is on fish, Red is on meats and Taylor is on garnishes.

"First ticket, right? Let's get this off to a good start! Three covers, table thirty-two; two crab cake and one Caesar salad!"

"Heard!" Bella shouts, drowning out my own 'heard' with her obnoxiously loud response.

I get to work on the crab cakes while Bella prepares the Caesar salad. Since the appetizer station is close to the wall that separates the red kitchen from the blue kitchen, I can see some of what's going on with the blue team while I wait for my crab cakes to crisp up in the deep fryer. 

So far it seems like everyone is doing a decent job in both kitchens. Bella and I send up the first table's appetizers with no issues and Gordon sends out our food with a polite, "Service, please."

While in the middle of cooking our fifth table of appetizers, I watch Garrett work on his Caesar salads out of the corner of my eye. He's sloppily chopping the lettuce, and his poor knife skills have come back to bite him- literally. He nicks his finger pretty badly. I can see him hiss through his teeth before he shakes his hand through the air and sends blood flying. I watch in what feels like slow motion as a few droplets of blood are flung into the deep fryer. My eyes go wide. Surely he'll say something?

But though Garrett had watched his blood contaminate the deep fryer, he doesn't make a peep about it. Gordon is too busy helping someone else on the blue team with how to properly take scallops out of the pan to notice. I watch in horror as Garrett takes out the crab cakes and goes to bring them to the pass. Gordon leaves the blue kitchen's fish station and heads to the pass to plate the crab cakes.

"Stop!" I shout. Gordon turns to me with a concerned look on his face.

"Yes, (Y/N)?" he asks.

I abandon my station, leaving it in the hands of Bella, and rush up to the pass to stand next to Chef Ramsay. He dips his shoulder to me and I put a hand on his arm so that I can reach his ear.

"Garrett cut himself and I saw the blood land in the deep fryer. He saw it too and didn't say anything. Those crab cakes are cooked in blood," I whisper. Immediately, I feel Gordon's face begin to emit heat and his skin flushes with a deep crimson color. I draw away from him and take a step back.

" _ **GARRET!!!**_ " Chef Ramsay bellows.

"Y-yeah, Chef?" Garrett looks up from his station, his eyebrows pulled together over his worried brown eyes.

"Get your _**ASS**_ over here you fucking nasty, sickening cunt," Gordon spits.

Garrett grabs a towel and holds it over his hand as he approaches the pass.

"Did you really get _fucking_ _**BLOOD**_ in my deep fryer and not tell me about it?" Gordon fumes, crossing his arms over his chest, most likely to prevent himself from lashing out and beating Garrett to a pulp. 

Though Garrett is a few inches taller than Ramsay, he looks as small as a mouse as he musters up the courage to respond, "No, Chef, I didn't notice that happen..." he mutters, refusing to make eye contact with Ramsay.

"If there's one thing I can't stand, it's dirty _**fucking**_ liars. (Y/N) saw you cut yourself, she saw you watch the blood fall into the deep fryer and she had to take the initiative to tell me what you'd done. If she hadn't said anything, I could have served the customers your Goddamned body fluids! _Unbelievable_! _Never_ in my life has anyone done something like this! In Hell's Kitchen or otherwise!" Gordon clenches his arms, his veins bulging forth from sheer anger.

Garrett looks down at the ground and messes with the towel between his fingers.

"Get your grimy, disgusting, bio-hazardous _fucking_ shit self out of my fucking restaurant right now, or I can promise you you'll have much worse injuries than a cut on your hand," Gordon seethes, his eyes burning holes into the top of Garrett's bowed head.

Garrett continues to twiddle with the towel, a red blotch appearing on the fabric.

"Are you deaf as well as blind and stupid? Get the fuck out of here before I get security to drag you out by your ears. I swear to God I'll do it," Ramsay leans in towards Garrett, his face red as a beet and a muscle in his jaw twitching. I don't doubt his threat for a moment and it seems Garrett doesn't either. He quickly rushes past Chef Ramsay and through the glass door that leads into the dining area. I watch him disappear through the dining room, John-Philippe chasing after him. 

John-Philippe returns just a few moments later with Garrett's blue jacket held in one hand.

"Thank you for telling me, my darling," Gordon says as his skin begins to fade to its normal hue. He gives me a genuine look of appreciation.

"Of course, Chef. I can't believe he did that," I say as I shake my head.

Gordon puts a hand on my shoulder. "Would you mind doing the rest of the blue kitchen's crab cakes, please? We'll have to dismantle and thoroughly clean their fryer and I don't want to take crab cakes off the menu."

"No problem, Chef." I nod. He squeezes my shoulder appreciatively before turning back to the pass.

Bella steps back from my crab cakes when I get closer and gives me a questioning look.

"What was that all about?" she asks.

"Garrett completely ruined the deep fryer, so now I have to do the blue team's crab cakes as well as ours," I shrug.

She flips her hair over her shoulder.

"I knew that guy was an idiot," she says before turning back to her salads.

Amazingly, we work together and finish sending out the rest of the appetizers. Gina has an overcooked fish and Red sends up a rare steak but other than that, the rest of service goes smoothly. 

"Shut it down and line up, everyone," Gordon announces from the front.

We obey and soon we're lined up in typical fashion.

Gordon pinches the bridge of his nose before taking a step forward.

"If any of you didn't hear what happened earlier on in the service, Garrett got his blood into the deep fryer. Thankfully, (Y/N) took over doing both team's crab cake orders, or we would have been screwed. Garrett will not be with us any longer. His negligence had the potential for a catastrophic lawsuit that could have spelled the end of Hell's Kitchen entirely had (Y/N) not seen him. In the light of that absolute disaster, the blue team are the losers tonight."

Gordon trails his eyes over the blue team.

"But don't worry about an elimination. Just clean the fucking kitchens, alright? I'm so worn out from today I swear I can't stand here a minute longer. Go on and get to cleaning. Red team, thank you for your work today. Now piss off, all of you." Gordon dismisses us and turns away, pinching the bridge of his nose again, showing typical signs of a massive headache. 

As I head back to the dorms, I find myself wishing I could hold Gordon and soothingly run my fingers along his back. He wasn't lying about needing someone. I can't imagine how difficult it must be to run an entire restaurant with the high standards he holds us to and not end every day with a headache. 

Red pats me on the arm and gives me a smile when I turn towards her.

"Nice work spotting Garrett mess up like that. I owe you!" she happily giggles then does a twirl down the hallway. Her joy perks me right up as I follow her towards the stairs to the dorms, her red curls leading the way.


	48. Back to School Part 1/3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordon takes the chefs out to a school trip!

Saturday, July 6th, 2013

I awaken from a decent night's sleep as I hear the other women shuffling about the room. Most people change in the closet or in the bathroom, but Bella always makes sure to dress right there in the room. I think she likes the prospect that she'll potentially be shown on TV in her bra and panties. Today she puts on an extra show by wiggling into her chefs pants while her top is still off and her breasts bounce dangerously in her tight bra.

Rubbing my eyes, I throw my legs over the side of the bed and yawn. Gina is laying on her bed, tossing a ball of paper up in the air and catching it.

"Morning, (Y/N)," Gina says, turning her head as she notices me sit up.

"Hey, Gina. Any idea what we're gonna be doing today?" I ask, reaching for my comb that I'd set in my side drawer.

"Nope, I'm clueless as ever," Gina grins as she continues to toss the paper ball.

I brush my hair and muse about what we could possibly get up to today. With Chef Ramsay, it's always a mystery. Bella finally finishes dressing and heads into the bathroom for her daily makeup routine. 

After I'm all ready and dressed in a plain white t-shirt and my chef's pants, I head out to the dorms. I pour a bowl of cereal and sit down next to Taylor at the bar stools. She gives me a sleepy smile and we eat in comfortable silence.

When my cereal is done, I take the bowl to the sink and rinse it out. I set the bowl on the drying rack and at the same moment, Chef Scott arrives at the top of the stairs.

"Hey. Chef Ramsay wants you all in your jackets and downstairs in five minutes, alright?" he asks.

"Yes, Chef," we respond. I head back into the room and let Gina know what we were asked. Bella pops out of the bathroom and we all put on our jackets then head downstairs.

Gordon stands in the center of the dining room. He gives us a wide smile when we line up.

"Good morning, everyone!" he greets us.

"Good morning, Chef!" we respond.

"I have something very special planned for today. Everyone should understand there is much to be learned in the process of teaching others the art," Gordon shakes his fist passionately in tandem with the word 'art', "of cooking. So today, I've got us all in to teach cooking classes at Los Angeles High! There will be five periods, fifty-five minutes each. Two of you will lead the classroom each period and each pair will teach the class how to make one amazing dish."

At hearing this, Shaun perks up, which doesn't go unnoticed by Chef Ramsay's trained eye.

"Yes, Shaun? Excited?" Gordon asks.

"Very, Chef. I love working with children. I'm actually a part-time substitute teacher back in New Orleans, but I've never had the chance to teach students how to cook," he says with clear happiness in his voice.

Really? Shaun the ultra-quiet blue team chef is a substitute teacher? I wonder how he ever gets students to listen to him. He seems so unassertive.

"Lovely, Shaun. You should have an edge on today's challenge, then. Now, to make things more interesting, I want each of you to pair up with a blue team member as your partner for your class. Go on and decide who you'll be teaming up with now, please." Gordon steps back and holds his arms open as our signal to find our partner.

Kalyani and Red immediately gravitate to each other and high five, wordlessly choosing the other as their partner. Dave and Bella don't miss out on a chance to be together and after a very short discussion, stand shoulder to shoulder. Taylor moseys over to Pietro, who smiles as she approaches. I'm curious about how Shaun will do teaching the class and I'm pretty sure if he's experienced he might even teach me a thing or two. I head over to him.

"Hey Shaun, would you mind being my partner today?" I ask.

He nods. "Of course, (Y/N). Not a problem at all."

Shaun and I stand side by side as the remaining two, Abel and Gina, pair up.

"Excellent, I see all pairs have been chosen! Now, let's head out to our limo. I bet none of you have ever gone to school in a limo before, eh?" Gordon winks then leads us out the front door of Hell's Kitchen. He holds open the door for us to get into the limo.

"Actually, Chef, I have been to school in a limo before," Bella speaks up as we slide into the comfy leather seats. Gordon ends up seated to my left and closes the door behind himself.

"Really?" he asks.

"Yeah, my dad got my friends and me a limo chauffeur for senior prom," she responds proudly.

"Then I guess it'll be all of our first time but yours, Bella," Ramsay says, disinterest tinging his words.

Unfortunately, Bella doesn't catch the hint and spends the entire limo ride recounting her experience of senior prom. I could've sworn that Pietro almost started snoring, but he jolted himself awake at the last second.

We pull in to the school drop off lane. The school is so big it looks more like a college campus than anything. Big blue letters spelling out 'Home of the Romans' sit right above the name of the school- Los Angeles High.

There is an older woman with a floral blouse-presumably the teacher- and her students outside waiting for us. The kids look to be seniors. Many of the boys in the class are already leagues taller than her.

Gordon steps out of the limo and heads towards the woman. He shakes her hand and kisses her cheeks. She blushes profusely and some of the students start to laugh, which causes her to blush even more.

"Oh, my word..." she mumbles, holding a hand up to her face and turning away from the camera crew.

When she collects herself, she turns back to us and clears her throat.

"Thank you for coming, Hell's Kitchen chefs! I'm Chef Buchannon, the culinary class teacher at Los Angeles High. Chef Ramsay has enlisted your help in teaching my classes for me today. Please, follow me to the classroom."

She leads us through the long hallways of the school. Along the way, many of the students recognize Chef Ramsay. A gaggle of teenage girls wave at him as they walk past and when he waves back they all drop their heads to the ground and giggle madly.

We reach the classroom and Chef Buchannon opens the door. The inside of the room is beautifully designed. There are stoves, ovens, countertops and even cabinets filled with cookware lining the walls of the classroom. In the center of the room, there is a large island with a stove and oven meant for demonstrations. A tall young man is busy putting away pots and pans at the demonstration kitchen. He looks up as we fill the classroom.

"Hello, Chefs! I'm Henry, I'm here training for becoming a teacher myself. Let me know if you need anything," Henry smiles. He's as tall as Chef Ramsay, who has gone over to shake his hand. His black hair is scruffy in a way that I'm sure drives his female students wild. He is very enthused about meeting Gordon, he grips his hand and gives it a solid shake while his bright brown eyes gleam with enthusiasm.

"The class is all yours, Chef Ramsay. I'll be at my desk if you need me," Chef Buchannon says before peeling away from the group and sitting down at her desk in the corner.

Gordon turns to us and claps his hands as the students settle into their stations.

"Take a minute to decide what you're going to be teaching the class to make. As each pair teach from the front of the classroom, I want the rest of you making your way around to each station and helping where you are needed. Got it?"

"Yes, Chef!" we shout. Some of the students turn their heads to look at us, startled by the noise.

"Then get to it! Go on and decide what dishes you'll be teaching!" he directs us to a corner of the room to discuss our ideas among ourselves.


	49. Back to School Part 2/3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 2nd part of our back to school adventure :D

Saturday, July 6th, 2013

Everyone groups together in the corner of the room to discuss what we'll be making. Since we don't want to make the same thing each period, we all try to decide on what we want to teach.

"Don't make it too difficult. These are just kids, alright?" Gina says, crossing her arms.

Kalyani leans into Red. "Let's teach them something they can make on their own when they get home from school. How about some sort of delicious grilled cheese concoction? Aren't kids really into avocados nowadays? Grilled cheese and avocado sandwich with tomato basil soup sound good?"

Red nods her head enthusiastically. "That sounds good, simple and delicious! I'm sure the kids will like it!"

Bella turns from where she had been trying to catch Henry's eye with a few flirty bats of her eyelashes and speaks up, "Dave, can we make something to do with fish? I feel like that's an important skill and like, I didn't learn how to properly cook a fish 'till I was twenty."

"Of course, Bella. Let's pick a simple fish though so they don't have to go out of their way to find it. How about cod with whole roasted carrots on the side?" Dave looks to her.

Henry shoots Bella a wide grin as she turns to peer over her shoulder at him. She giggles before turning back to Dave. "Oh sorry, did you say cod? That sounds fine, yeah," she responds distractedly.

A small scowl passes over Dave's face before he recovers. I can't imagine why he puts up with her.

Shaun nudges my arm. "Hey, how about we do something fun, like spaghetti? Since we have fifty-five minutes we could even teach them how to make their own noodles and sauce. I'm sure they'll have fun with that."

"That's a great idea, Shaun, what sort of meatballs? Maybe turkey?" I muse.

"Sure, turkey is simple enough to find and really easy to work with. The kids will love it," Shaun agrees.

Taylor and Pietro both start to speak at the same time, before Pietro gives a 'go-ahead' hand motion towards Taylor.

"Thanks, uh, I was gonna suggest we teach these kiddos how to make a mean New York strip steak! I know steak doesn't take fifty-five minutes to make so maybe we can do something tasty on the side."

Pietro rubs his hands together. "How about some garlic butter potato bites? Those always go really well with steak!"

"Ohhh yes, great idea Pietro!" Taylor squeaks happily.

Gina turns to Abel. "What do you think of teaching the kids how to make a pizza from scratch? That sounds like fun right?"

Abel nods. "Definitely. We'll just have to be sure we make it thin crust otherwise it will not finish cooking in time."

Gordon heads over to us as he sees us finish our conversation.

"Everyone has their food planned, yeah?" he asks.

"Yes, Chef!" we respond.

"Excellent. Now, whichever pair wins today will have a fantastic night, let me tell you. However, I will not be judging. I will be leaving the judgment up to the students. So be sure your teaching is clear, concise and fun, right?"

"Yes, Chef!" we repeat.

"Good, good. Now, since we spent some of this class period discussing what we will be making, who here has a dish that will take forty minutes or less?" he asks.

"Us, Chef," Kalyani indicates herself and Red.

"Great, would you two mind going first?" he requests.

"Not a problem at all, Chef!" Red cheerfully responds.

Both Kalyani and Red rush to take their place at the teaching station.

"Hey, everyone!" Red shouts trying to get everyone's attention.

The kids ignore her, chatting among themselves. Red looks downtrodden.

Gordon steps to the front of the classroom and harnesses everyone's attention with one loud demand, "Pay attention you muppets!"

Immediately, all the kids stop talking and face the front.

"All yours," Gordon passes the spotlight to Kalyani and Red.

Red and Kalyani walk the students through the steps to making a delicious grilled cheese and avocado sandwich with fresh tomato basil soup. The rest of us plus Henry walk around the room and offer assistance to the students, but most of them can handle making sandwiches on their own so we're not really needed.

Gordon stands near Chef Buchannon's desk and discusses cooking techniques with her, giving her advice and letting her know some tips and tricks she can teach the students.

Bella spends an inordinate amount of time with Henry. Bella acts enamored with him and keeps giggling at everything he says. He is really enjoying her attention and is sure to ask her for her insight into any little thing, including things someone who's been in the industry for a while definitely should know by now. He mentions that he will only be here for one period, which elicits a disappointed, " _Aww!_ " from Bella.

Dave seethes from the side of the room, watching Bella flirt with the teacher's assistant.

Eventually, everyone finishes their sandwiches and soup. Chef Buchannon rises from her chair.

"Would you like to help me grade the children's work?" she asks Ramsay.

"Of course, lead the way, my dear," he nods to her.

Chef Buchannon travels from station to station, discussing scores with Chef Ramsay. As they traverse the classroom, Gordon leaves behind a sheet of paper with questions about how the teaching session went for each of the kids to answer.

When the bell rings to signal the end of the period, the students slip their comment cards into a bucket by the front door. Chef Ramsay stands by the exit and says goodbye to each of the kids as they leave the classroom. The student-teacher is the last to leave, and he makes a big show of saying goodbye to Bella. He scoops her up in a bear hug and twirls her around in the air before setting her down and letting her know that he'll 'be seeing you around'.

I don't know if Dave could get any more upset at this point. His lips are pursed closed so tightly that they've gone white. Bella skips over to him as happy as anything, completely ignoring his clear discomfort.

Taylor and Pietro handle the next classroom full of students with gusto. Pietro is really fun at the head of the kitchen, he plays with the food and makes silly sound effects that get the kids laughing. Taylor acts as the perfect wingman to his jokes, playing along with his silly presentation. Their food turns out beautifully as well, and the kids seem really happy when they leave the classroom.

The next period brings the spotlight on Abel and Gina. They don't really work that well together. Abel is always trying to get everything exactly measured, precisely cut and shaped while Gina is just trying to get through the class with enough time for everyone to have their pizzas fully cooked. The students follow along well enough, but the discordance between the two chefs doesn't leave the best impression on them.

Chef Buchannon informs us as the latest class files out that there will be a forty-minute lunch break. Gordon turns to us as she leaves with a big smile on his face.

"I've got just the thing for us to have for lunch. Wait just one moment, yeah?" he happily exits the room.

As soon as Gordon leaves, Dave takes Bella by her elbow and leads her to the far corner of the room, away from the rest of us. From there I can hear him quietly but sternly talking to her. Bella shakes her head multiple times, crosses her arms and rolls her eyes, clearly unconvinced by whatever Dave is saying. After a short, while they do seem to make up, she ends the conversation by putting her hand on his arm and kissing his cheek. Dave sighs and wraps his arm around her shoulder for a quick half-hug. They rejoin the rest of us as soon as Gordon comes back into the room with his arms full of takeout bags with the words "In-N-Out Burger" plastered on the front.

"Since we're in Cali, I figured we should take part in their most delectable burger. The In-N-Out double double burger is just heaven in a bun, let me tell you," Gordon giddily passes out the burgers before taking his own to a nearby chair at one of the stations.

"Come, sit!" he waves us over.

Each station only has two chairs, so everyone sits next to their partner. I try to sit at the station closest to Ramsay with Shaun to my other side. He scoots his chair over so him and I are closer together, even while our stations are separate.

I was a bit incredulous at just how delicious a fast-food burger could be, but if Gordon says it is the 'most delectable' it must be pretty good. My disbelief melts away with my first bite into the burger. It's absolute heaven.

"Good, yeah? In-N-Out is my guilty pleasure," Gordon enthuses to me between bites of his own burger.

"It's the best fast food I've ever tasted. I've never been to In-N-Out before, I'll have to try and get it more often!" I respond, smiling.

We finish our burgers with gusto and once finished, we wait near the door for the next group of students to arrive.


	50. Back to School Part 3/3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion to our culinary class adventures :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ||Authors Note: I'll be updating on Wednesday, Thursday AND Friday this week because we have a juicy chapter coming up on Friday and I don't want you guys to have to wait the whole weekend to get to it ;P||

Saturday, July 6th, 2013

The next batch of students begins to fill into the room. It's now our turn to teach the students. In preparation for our recipe, I have already got the ovens of each station preheated to 375 degrees.

"Welcome, everyone! I hope you all are ready to learn how to make some delicious spaghetti today," Shaun says to the classroom.

The students look to the front of the room, awaiting instruction.

"Right, so the first thing we need to do is get our pasta noodles started," Shaun starts.

Some of the students begin reaching for their pre-packaged noodles in the cabinets above them.

"No no no no, we'll be making our pasta by hand today. Knowing how to make pasta by hand is a very useful skill and really helps to make any pasta dish just absolutely delicious," he continues.

One of the girls in the far back of the room groans.

"Hey, it's gonna be fun alright?" I shout back to her. She glares at me.

"I hate tedious extra work for no reason," she complains.

"It's not for no reason. You'll see once we finish just how good it is," I explain. 

"We'll be using a recipe for four servings of pasta and four servings of sauce, so each station should pair up with the station beside them. Four hands working on a meal makes it go much faster than just two!" I instruct them.

Shaun picks up from where I left off, "Now, let's get a big bowl and whisk together two cups of flour, one-half teaspoon of salt. Once that is done, let's create a deep well in the center of the flour and crack three eggs into it. Whisk those eggs into the flour and while you're doing that, (Y/N) will explain how to start on the handmade sauce."

"Right, let's get started on our sauce! First, let's chop one medium onion and season one pound of ground beef with some salt and pepper. Once that is done, put the ground beef along with your onion into a large skillet."

I keep up my instructions, "While those students are getting the beef ready, let's begin kneading our dough. You'll want to knead it until it starts to feel a bit firm. You can check if it's ready by slicing into the dough. If you see a lot of air bubbles, you've still got a way to go. Once you've finished with the dough, roll it into a ball and put it inside your mixing bowl. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and we'll let it sit for thirty minutes."

Shaun takes the lead, "Now that your meat is browned, let's drain that excess grease."

He waits patiently for the students to drain their skillets before continuing, "Great, now let's add in fifteen ounces of tomato sauce and six ounces of tomato paste."

Once they've done so, Shaun lists the further ingredients that will be needed to add to the skillet. "Excellent. Now we have to put in one-half teaspoon of Italian seasoning, one tablespoon of parsley flakes and one teaspoon of garlic powder. Don't worry, I can repeat myself if anyone needs me to."

The students miraculously seem to keep up with the myriad of ingredients. Shaun looks proudly out over the classroom.

"Doing good, everyone! Now all we need to add is a pinch of crushed red pepper if you like a little heat, one tablespoon of Worcestershire sauce and one tablespoon of sugar. Go on and mix that up nice and good and get it to a boil. Once it starts boiling, add one cup of water, stir it, then reduce the heat and let it simmer for thirty minutes," he finishes with a flourish of sugar into our demonstration skillet.

"While that's on the way to boiling, let's get started on our meatballs!" I say cheerily.

"Let's get another large bowl out. Mix in one pound of ground turkey with a half cup of Italian style bread crumbs. Then, add a half cup of Parmesan cheese, one teaspoon of onion powder, garlic salt and Italian seasoning each to the bowl," I look around the room and wait for the students to look back up at me. 

"Nicely done. Lastly, we just need to add one-fourth cup of milk and one egg to the bowl. Go on and mix that up! Your sauce should be boiling now, so let's add the water and turn the heat to a simmer."

They dutifully listen and mix their turkey meatballs while their partner lowers the heat on the sauce. 

"Alright, now, all we need to do is shape that mixture into fifteen good-sized meatballs. Put them on a large cookie sheet that you've sprayed down with some cooking spray and pop them in the oven!" I grin out at the classroom.

"Now that both our sauce and meatballs are on their way to being done cooking, let's start a big pot filled with salted water to boiling and make our noodles," Shaun says as he takes hold of his own dough for demonstration. I fill a pot of water and salt it, putting it on 'high' on the stove.

"Sprinkle a baking sheet with flour and put your dough ball on top. Divide it into four equal portions. Dust those portions with flour. Now let's set our pasta machines to the thickest setting. Flatten one piece of dough into a disc with your hands and feed it through the pasta roller. Repeat this twice," he shows how to do this with his dough.

"Then we're going to move the setting down a bit to where it's thinner. Always move the setting by only one at a time, or the noodles will get snagged. Do this until we get to the 'seven' marked on your pasta roller," he says.

The students roll the pasta through. They seem to really enjoy making the pasta, including the girl at the back who'd initially complained about the prospect of hand-made noodles. Even though it takes a while, and those that struggle get assistance from the other chefs until everyone has nice, even pasta sheets.

"Now we take our pasta sheets and lay them out. Cut them into twelve-inch sheets. While some of you are doing that, have someone get the pasta cutter." Shaun gives the students time to get out the pasta cutter before continuing, "now run your pasta sheets through the pasta cutter and set them in a bowl. Toss them with some flour to keep them from sticking to each other."

The room starts to fill with the pleasant aroma of the near-done sauce and meatballs. 

"Let's go ahead and add the pasta to your boiling pot of water now. Take the meatballs out of the oven and set them in the sauce to absorb some flavor before we finish. Let's also add some chopped basil to the sauce as we put in the meatballs," I demonstrate, swiftly chopping basil and adding it with a quick sweep of the chopping board into the sauce. I then carefully place the meatballs into the sauce and close the lid again. 

After five minutes pass, Shaun begins with our final instructions. " We're almost done, everyone! Let's drain the noodles into a colander," he pours his noodles out, "then put some noodles on a plate, take the sauce off the stove and scoop some sauce and meatballs on top, sprinkle some Parmesan on top and voila!" he holds the finished plate out to the class. It looks picture-perfect, with thin streams of white steam coming off of it. 

Each of the students makes their plate of spaghetti. They look pretty satisfied with the work they've done. Chef Ramsay gives me a proud look across the classroom. Shaun and I definitely did a good job instructing our class. 

As the students file out, they drop their comment cards in the bucket and Chef Ramsay once again says goodbye to each of them at the door. I head over to him with a grin as the final student steps from the room.

"You did wonderfully, (Y/N). You and Shaun both. Excellent, excellent," he gives me a beaming smile. 

Last up are Dave and Bella. They both seem to still have some issues they're working through, and that tension laces through their entire lesson. The students seem distracted and disorderly, just like the pair of contestants. At the end of their lesson, half of the students haven't even finished making their meals yet. Chef Ramsay shakes his head from the side of the room, tapping his foot impatiently. 

"Well, that was a disaster," Chef Ramsay says bluntly to Bella and Dave.

"Sorry, Chef. We've got a bit of a personal issue to work through. I know I shouldn't let it affect my work. I'm sorry," Dave says apologetically. 

"I hope you didn't have delusions of winning because, after that performance, you're likely in last place," Ramsay states bluntly. Bella scoffs and crosses her arms. 

"Let's head back to Hell's Kitchen. I'm going to need an hour or two to read over these comment cards and let the students make their decision." Ramsay turns to the teacher, "Goodbye, Chef Buchannon and thank you for allowing us the use of your classroom." 

She waves dismissively at him. "Oh no, it's not an issue at all! Please, come back any time!"

We all follow Chef Ramsay through the school and back to our limo. The ride back to Hell's Kitchen is filled with our avid discussion about our dishes and how much we enjoyed or didn't enjoy teaching the children. Shaun was a better partner than I expected, and I'm grateful that I picked him from the group. My mind fills with ideas for what the prize will be for the winners as the giant steel trident at the front of Hell's Kitchen comes into view.


	51. Pietro's Perception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh...

Saturday, July 6th, 2013

When we get back to Hell's Kitchen, we file upstairs to wait for Chef Ramsay to tally up the student's decision.

Taylor, Red, Shaun and I settle onto the couch together. Gina and Pietro each sit in the comfy chairs across from the sofa while Bella, Dave, and Kalyani sit at the bar stools.

"So, your girl was kind of hoeing around today, wasn't she Dave?" Pietro mentions over his shoulder to Dave.

Bella puffs up angrily, like an irritated cobra. "That's just how I talk! I can't help if you think female attention is flirting! Of course, you're so fat and ugly you probably think me talking to you right now is flirting, don't you?" she spits, her words loaded with venom. 

"You may be surprised at what this old Italian can do, Bella. Word gets around with women and I get plenty of attention. Of course, I prefer to stay clean, so I won't be showing you any time soon," Pietro responds coolly. 

Dave hops off his barstool and walks over to Pietro, attempting to be intimidating. "Don't talk shit about Bella, alright? I can handle her myself. I don't need your comments." 

Pietro doesn't even glance at him before he mutters, "Well, at least her flirting buddy wasn't _married_."

The infliction on his tone tells me he knows something more than he's letting on... He's probably put some clues together since he almost walked in on Ramsay and I. I feel a familiar lump forming in my throat. My suspicions are confirmed as Pietro glances at me. His eyes fill me with a sense of discomfort far different from the happy-go-lucky aura that he normally exudes.

It's not like I can take him aside and explain to him that Gordon's wife has given both him and me permission to be together. I'm not even sure what exactly he knows, but my stomach drops all the same as I mull over the thousands of potential ways this could blow up in my face. At least he isn't calling me out yet. Probably because I'd never tried to insult him as Bella has.

Dave sits back down at his barstool and Bella tries to put her hand out to him. He draws his arm back away from her. She lets her hand drop limply into her lap and her lower lip trembles.

Gina tries to strike up a conversation about what the prize might be, but the happiness and elation seem drained from the room and the conversation quickly falls flat. 

We wait in uncomfortable silence for what feels like forever. I find myself feeling tremendously anxious waiting for the phone to ring.

When it finally does, the ringing sound releases what feels like an air pressure valve, dispersing some of the tension rapidly from the room.

Kalyani picks up the phone with a quick, "Hello?" and then nods before giving a, "Yes, Chef," and turning to us.

"Chef wants us downstairs outside the kitchens pronto," Kalyani says before leading the way.

We line up outside of the kitchens and await Chef Ramsay. He descends from the stairs quickly and stands tall in front of us.

"I tell you what, if you want to have a good laugh, ask a bunch of teenagers for their honest opinion on something. Aside from the plethora of curse words and dick drawings, I did end up getting an answer from the unruly kids. First, let's just get this out of the way. Dave and Bella, you were rated the lowest of every group," Ramsay gives them both a disapproving look.

"Now, our top two pairs. These teams were very, very closely ranked," he pauses for a moment, letting the tension build for the camera audience, "The top two pairs were Taylor and Pietro's team along with Shaun and (Y/N)'s team! Come, step forward!" he claps excitedly.

The four of us step from the rest of the chefs and await the verdict silently. 

"Come now, where's the enthusiasm? I promise you, the reward is very, very good, yeah?" his brows furrow and the deep lines in his forehead become even more pronounced as he tries to figure out why we're all in such a somber mood.

"Sorry, Chef. We had a bit of an altercation upstairs, but we're fine now," Dave says from behind me, attempting to help Chef Ramsay understand.

"As long as it doesn't affect your work in the kitchen, I don't want to know about it. Your comments are your own and I won't be bothered with them. I have too fucking much to deal with and that can't include settling your quarrels. Now, are we ready to hear the winners?" Gordon steeples his fingers.

"Yes, Chef!" we respond, trying to show excitement.

"Good, because our winners today are..." he stops and sweeps his eyes across the four of us in front of him before landing on, "Pietro and Taylor! Congrats!"

I clap along with Shaun for Taylor and Pietro, who smile at each other and bump shoulders.

"You two will be headed out to the beautiful Lake Tahoe! You'll have an _amazing_ time at Tahoe Treetop adventure park. Once you've worn yourselves out, you'll get to sleep in your very own, one-million-dollar treehouse overlooking the lake! Go on and get your stuff packed for tonight and meet your personal Ferrari driver out by the front, yeah? Congrats!" he gives a huge smile as he directs the winners to the dorms. 

Shaun and I step back into the formation of chefs comprising of the losers.

Gordon takes a step forward. "Tomorrow will not be a service night, so I just want you losers to spend today cleaning up the dining room and front of Hell's Kitchen. Please also iron the table cloths and iron press my chef's jackets. Once you've finished, you're welcome to make your dinner and head for an early night's sleep." 

Gordon turns his gaze to me. "(Y/N), I'm going to have to get a full report from you on Garrett's mishap in the kitchen tomorrow. For legal purposes, we need to be sure he wasn't intentionally trying to serve people his blood and since you were the only witness that wasn't a camera, we need your point of view. Please come see me in my office tomorrow as soon as you can."

I nod, grateful that Pietro had already gone to the dorms so he couldn't shoot me a knowing look at Gordon's request to talk to me alone. 

Chef Ramsay dismisses us and turns back, traveling up the stairs to his office once more.


	52. ||Cover Vote!||

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know which of these cover options you prefer, so I can use it as the main cover of my book! :D

Hey guys, I made our new cover and I love it but I need YOUR help to decide which to use for THE cover :D

**Please pick your favorite and let me know at the bottom which you prefer.**

Whichever one has the most votes by the time I get back from my honeymoon on the 10th of September will be the new cover for Hell's Smitten~ Of course, if you happen to look like any of these options I'll still leave them up for you to bolster your imagination of the 'reader' with a pretty picture :D

So without further ado, here are the options!

Long hair:

 

Short hair options:

 

Combo hair options:

 

Thank you for your help and thank you for reading Hell's Smitten! <3


	53. Mrs. Ramsay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long awaited meeting occurs!

Sunday, July 7th, 2013

I had a lot of trouble getting to sleep last night. The anxiety of realizing Pietro probably knows more than I had thought has been hitting me hard. The only time I managed to not be anxious was when I was ironing Chef Ramsay's jackets. I imagined myself at his home, helping him get ready for work. It felt like a perfect scenario until I finished and was forced to face the fact that my stay at Hell's Kitchen just got even more precarious.

When I sit up, I remember that Chef Ramsay had asked to see me as soon as I was able. With that in mind, I rush to get dressed in my white t-shirt and grey leggings. I decide on skipping out on breakfast since I'd have the whole day to prepare a nice, filling lunch. 

Taylor and Pietro haven't returned yet from their overnight stay at their treehouse, and I'm thankful to not have Pietro's now uncomfortable presence around.

Bella is sitting on the couch alone this morning. She's rolling a rubber band around in her hand, playing with it absentmindedly. When I step outside of the dorm bedroom, her eyes shoot up to look at me. They look red and bloodshot as if she's been crying. I notice Dave isn't anywhere around her.

She doesn't say anything, she just glares at me before looking back down at her rubber band.

Red spots this exchange from her seat at the barstool where she's enjoying breakfast and gives me a shrug.

I head down through the kitchens and find myself in front of Chef Ramsay's office. I try to ignore the tingling feeling in my limbs as I knock on the door.

"(Y/N), is that you?" Gordon's voice comes from behind the door.

"Yes, Chef," I respond.

The door cracks open and he pulls me into his arms before closing the door behind us. He dips me and I giggle as he kisses my lips. My lashes flutter open and I find myself making upside-down eye contact with an entirely new set of eyes.

Hurriedly, I try to stand up and straighten out my crumpled t-shirt. Gordon helps me stand and wraps an arm around my waist comfortingly.

"(Y/N), I'd like you to meet my wife, Tana," he introduces me without any hesitation. 

My skin burns where he's touching me, and my lips tingle where he's left his kiss. Tana's deep brown eyes appraise me from her armchair seat, roaming up and down my body.

"She's cute, Gordon," Tana breaks the silence with her simple statement. The corners of her eyes crinkle with a nearly invisible smile.

Blush travels up my neck and to my cheeks. Gordon grins.

"I knew you'd think so, she's definitely the cutest contestant we've had on Hell's Kitchen, hands down," Gordon agrees. 

"But you didn't choose her just because she's cute, did you?" Tana asks as she tilts her head, causing her long, brown hair to tumble elegantly down her shoulders.

"Of course not. She's intelligent, kind, perceptive and trustworthy. She's a mean cook, one of the best. And she listens to me very, very well. I've never had to tell her anything twice," Gordon praises me as he squeezes my side appreciatively. 

Tana pushes herself up from the armchair and crosses the distance between us in a few strides.

"Good to meet you, (Y/N). I hear you've been taking care of my husband for me while he's working, yeah?" she asks with a smile, which is the only thing that gives me enough confidence to respond.

"Y-yes Mrs. Ramsay," I blush harder and find myself staring at the carpet.

"She's shy, isn't she?" Tana laughs before reaching out and taking my hand. I look up when I feel the sudden contact of her smooth fingers against my palm.

"Please, dear, call me Tana. It's a pleasure. Gordon gushed about you for a while when he called me up to ask me to come to meet you," she says as she shakes my hand. I look up and lock eyes with her. She's got a warm but calculating look on her face and the same twinkle in her eyes that I see Gordon with occasionally.

"Sorry, of course, Tana. It's good to meet you too," I pause before hesitantly adding, "thank you for what you've allowed Gordon to do. I-I-" I find myself stumbling on my words.

"You what, dear?" Tana asks, letting go of my hand and taking a step back to give me a bit more space. Gordon does the opposite and pulls me even closer to his side to where my hip is touching his.

I take a deep breath and steady myself, finding comfort in Gordon's touch. Then, words I never in a million years would have guessed myself to say tumble forth from my lips, "I've fallen in love with him. I never could have had the chance to do so without you allowing him to pursue me. I'm so, so grateful," I finish, struggling to maintain eye contact with her amused look.

"She's just like me, Gordon. She's fallen for you right off the bat. You do tend to have that effect on women, don't you?" she muses, turning her twinkling gaze to her husband.

Gordon grins and rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. "Well, you know, I do know how to turn on the charms when need be," he leans down and kisses the top of my head, "and when I saw her I knew I'd need to lay the charms on extra-thick," he purrs.

Tana laughs and shakes her head.

"Typical Gordon, such a cheeseball," she teases. "Go on then, spend some time with your new lady, I'll see you tonight after you're done here," she winks before passing us both. 

Gordon stops her by catching her upper arm and pulls her into a kiss, still holding me against him. A whole mess of complicated feelings tangle up in my chest as she sighs into his lips before breaking the kiss. She waves to me then heads out the door to the office.


	54. (*)If Only This Moment Were Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more alone time with our Chef ;)

 Sunday, July 7th, 2013

The corners of Gordon's lips pull up into a smile.

"You did really well, (Y/N). Tana definitely approves of you. I _told_ you she'd like you," he says as he turns his torso to me and wraps his other arm around my waist.

"That was crazy. I never thought I'd be meeting my boyfriend's wife at any point in my life. At least not with everyone fully knowledgeable and consenting to the situation," I say, my voice still a little shaky as I try to untangle the emotions that dredged up in me from who knows where.

At the word 'boyfriend', Gordon's face lights up.

"It's nearly overwhelming how good it feels when you call me that. 'Boyfriend'. I feel like a love-struck teenager. I love you, (Y/N), you make me feel incredible," he declares, holding me into his firm chest.

I trail my hands up the sides of his back and curl my fingers around his shoulders from behind.

"You are incredible, Gordon, and you make me feel the same. I love you too..." I draw my head back from his chest and give him a genuine smile, trying to hide the trepidation in my voice.

"But what?" he asks, catching on to my hesitation. I wince. Hiding anything from this man is proving to be impossible.

"I mean... I've never done anything like this before. Seeing someone I'm in love with kiss someone else was... unsettling," I gulp down some air before continuing, Gordon's concerned gaze locked onto my eyes, "I know she's your wife and I know she was here way before me, but I've still never experienced feelings like that before... Jealousy, mostly," I nearly whispered the last bit.

He kisses my forehead and I can feel his words through the vibrations of his lips against me, "Don't you think I understand? My wife spends more time with her boyfriend than she does with me. Of course, that's my fault for being such a busybody. But still, it took me a long while to get used to seeing her with him. They are so happy and so obviously in love, I felt so strongly about it I almost had to end our relationship once when we'd fought and she'd went on to his house to cool down, it enraged me so much," he mumbles before pulling back and looking into my eyes.

"But it turns out him being there makes us stronger. When she went to visit him, she talked to him about our argument and came home with a solution to our issue that neither of us had thought of. Plus, I know she's not lonely without me there. I know she's not getting up to anything we haven't already discussed. He was already my friend before, but we've only become better and better friends as time has gone on. Now, I wouldn't want her to be without him. He just enhances both our lives so much that it would feel like we were missing something if he wasn't there. Usually, when I'm home he's not around to give Tana and I alone time, but he's always a welcome presence when he is," Gordon finishes.

"So would I be the same thing for you? Would I be traveling with you?" I ask tentatively.

Gordon shrugs his shoulders. "Honestly, I don't know what we'll do. Surely if you travel with me, people will eventually notice," he says, then takes my cheek in the palm of his hand as I begin to lower my head dejectedly.

His warm blue eyes provide a safe haven for me to sink into as he responds, "Nothing can stay a secret forever. They will find out, eventually. But don't think I don't want people to know. I do love you, and I want you with me. Even if that will be a tough thing for the public to swallow, so be it. I've been mired in controversy all my life simply for my attitude, I'm sure we can handle it," he pauses to give me a quick kiss before he continues.

"That is if you're prepared for that eventuality. I haven't forgotten that this show is your first step into the world of being on television. Being with me, especially as my lover, will show you a whole new side of people I'm sure you will not enjoy. Tabloids will be filled with lies about you and me. People will accuse you to your face of terrible things. Unfortunately, it's inevitable. Most people barely even know what polyamory _is_ , much less accept it," he grimaces.

"That's why Tana's boyfriend has always been a secret. We're still friends, so it makes sense for him to come over. But they've never left his or my house with their secret. You and I will be entirely new territory. We'll be on more magazine covers than Janet Jackson's tit, I can promise you that," he jokes.

A small part of me screams at the thought of all of the attention. I've never been one to enjoy people's eyes on me and coming to a TV show was already a major step outside of my comfort zone. Now, whenever word gets out, I'll be seen as a home-wrecking harlot here to steal Tana's man. It doesn't matter what Tana says about the topic, people will believe what they want to believe. And usually, that amounts to whichever story is the juiciest being the one that people go with. Gordon might be used to the media spotlight by now, but I'm surely not.

Sensing my unease, Gordon squeezes me. "We'll try and keep it a secret for as long as possible to give you time to decide if that's what you really want. Your life will never be the same the moment word gets out. I don't want you to make such a huge decision without time to think about it. If you ever become uncomfortable or unsure, we can break it off and I promise I'll try not to beg you to stay," he gives me a heartfelt look as he says the last part of his sentence. I can feel that he's as close to asking me to try to brave the media storm as he'll ever get.

"Thank you, Gordon..." I begin, "I do want to be with you and I haven't deluded myself into thinking this can be a secret forever, but I'm nervous. No one really knows me, not since my parents died, and I don't want the world's first impression of me to be a negative one."

Gordon's face drops. "Your parents are dead?"

I nod. "Car accident when I was twenty-one. They were hit on their way to visit my new apartment," I say, my voice wavering a bit.

He sighs and leans his forehead down onto mine. My eyes close as I take in the comfort of his presence.

"I'm so, so sorry. No one should have to lose their parents so young. You're strong to have made it so far on your own. Do you not have any siblings?" he asks.

"No, just me. Funnily enough, after they died you were my only role model left," I smile softly.

"Surely not? You don't curse nearly often enough for me to be your role model!" he teases gently.

I open my eyes and look determinedly into his. "Ever since I was sixteen, I've been following in your footsteps the best I can. You're why I'm here. I just figured Hell's Kitchen was the best way for an amateur like myself to have a chance at meeting you and having my mentor teach me one on one. I had no idea I'd make it this far in the competition," I admit truthfully.

He gives me a proud look. "When I first saw you, I knew you were going to make it far. You've prepared for this a lot more than the other chefs have. You've used techniques that can only be learned through years and years of practice. You're confident, creative and sexy as hell. I'm not sure if the last part helps with cooking, but it seems to have helped me, so I'll toss that on the end there," he grins cheekily.

I can't help myself from laughing. "You know just what to say, don't you? God, I miss you when we're apart," I find myself blurting out, "I want to hold you. I want to kiss you. I don't ever want to be away from you. I don't know how Tana does it..."

"She's a lot more independent than I'd expected when I first met her, that's for sure. Though I know she loves me, she also loves to spend time on her own. She's a busy woman, especially with four kids. I try to let her have her own space, but I'm definitely more clingy than she is," Gordon says, and as if to prove his point he lifts me by my waist and holds me to him, my head now level with his as I wrap my legs around his torso.

"I love that you're clingy. I need someone who needs me. Tana is so independent, I wish I was needed more," he says, then kisses my cheek.

"Well, I need you..." I begin, letting the hint linger in the air for a moment.

"I need you badly..." I continue. I reach up and tangle my fingers into his soft blond locks. His gaze burns into me.

"I need you right now," I finish. I pull his mouth into mine and kiss him with intense passion.

***If you can't already tell, smut below! ;)***

He tightens his grip on me as I try to wordlessly convey my deep-seated desires to him through our shared touch. He leads me to the sofa in the corner of his room and gently lays me down, breaking our kiss.

"You really leave a man hungry for more, you know that?" he growls, his eyes impatiently roaming my body as he stands over me.

"I'll be sure to give you a bigger portion size next time," I taunt him, sticking out my tongue and slightly lifting my shirt up to reveal my stomach and the underside of my bra.

He grabs the indent that's formed on the side of his leg. "I'll give you more than you can swallow, darling," he says as he swiftly undoes his pants.

"I'll try my best to prove you wrong," I say before sitting up on the couch and taking hold of the sides of his briefs. I pull them down and am greeted by his thick, delicious cock at eye level.

He starts to say something, more than likely trying to give a snarky response, but is silenced as I take the head into my mouth. He lets out some air from between his lips in a lustful sigh.

I begin working on his cock, this time using only my mouth and tongue. I hold the sides of his hips and push myself deeper down on him. He whimpers and arches his back while gripping my hair in one hand.

Keen to try and prove that I can, in fact, swallow his entire cock, I push myself even further, fighting against the urge to gag. My throat distends as I finally reach the base with my lips. His knees nearly buckle beneath him as he savors the feeling of being completely enveloped in my eager-to-please mouth.

I can only hold it for a second before I have to pull back. His dick pops from my mouth and stands just as tall as it had a moment before, but this time it's covered in a sheen of my saliva from head to base. I give him a proud look through my teary eyes.

"OK, damn, well, you weren't kidding then. I guess you can swallow it all. No one has ever accomplished that before," he says in wonder.

"Can I have your cock inside me, please?" I ask bluntly, feeling the heat and wetness of my excitement through my leggings. I'd proven him wrong, and now I want my reward.

"You just did, didn't you?" he begins joking, then catches my feisty look and lowers his voice to a rumble, "You know I wasn't going to let you leave this room without my cum inside of you one way or the other, right?" he says provocatively.

"Give it to me. Please, Gordon, I need you. I need your cum inside of me," I plead as I take off my shirt and unhook my bra, throwing them into the armchair across from us. This must be what it feels like to be an animal in heat. For a moment I wonder what's gotten into me. Usually, I'm shy and unable to voice my desires, but now I'm practically demanding to be fucked on Gordon's sofa. Maybe it was seeing him kiss his wife.

Fortunately, he seems eager to fulfill my every wish.

"As you say, my love," he leans down over me and in one swift motion he pulls off my leggings and soaked panties, throwing them on the pile with the rest of my clothes.

He grabs my knees and pushes them back until they're nearly at either side of my head. My pussy is welcoming, pretty and pink before him. He kneels onto the floor and then leans forward. He places gentle kisses around the outside of my pussy lips, causing me to shiver.

I reach one arm under his that is still holding my knees open and lock my fingers in through his hair. I push him into me, unable to take the tease any longer. Thankfully, he obliges and begins to play with my clit, rolling his tongue over it tantalizingly.

My legs tremble. His strong arms hold me down, defenseless and completely at his mercy. I feel his tongue slip into me and I grit my teeth, my body straining to thrash about with the intensity of the stimulation he's giving me.

"You taste bloody marvelous," he says when he finally draws back from my helpless, gleaming pussy. His eyes glint with pure lust.

"T-thank you, Gordon," I manage to say. He responds to my thanks by roughly tossing my knees to the side so that I'm laying across the couch.

"I'm going to fuck your pussy until it's so raw and tender you won't want to move," he snarls as he strokes his cock from beside me.

"Please, please do," I beg, throwing one of my legs over the back of the sofa and spreading the other one outward to give him as much space as possible.

He puts one knee on the sofa and leaves the other leg off the side, one foot firmly on the ground.

Gordon lifts my hips and guides my pussy to the tip of his cock. He lifts me slowly up and down, covering the head in the wetness of my eager pussy. He watches me carefully as I squirm, an amused expression on his face.

"I can't take it much more, Gordon, please I've been dying for this fo-" I squeak as he thrusts his cock into me fully, distending my lower belly with the impression of his dick from the inside as he holds me completely open for his taking.

I quiver in his hands as he starts to thrust harder into me, his foot on the ground giving him leverage to truly pound me into the cushions of the sofa.

I take my leg from over the sofa and throw it over his shoulder instead. He wraps his arm around the leg and kisses the side of it, still thrusting deeper and deeper.

I can feel the sofa cushion beneath my back sliding out from under me, but I don't have the strength to try to push it back into place. The cushion falls to the side and Gordon continues to fuck me on the now bare section of the couch. The missing cushion tilts me at an angle that allows him to drill even deeper inside, into places I didn't even know existed before.

The walls of my pussy start to spasm against him, but instead of pulling out he just drives himself into me and holds me, impaled on his cock while I cum. The endless sensation of his thickness within me keeps me cumming for a straight thirty seconds. By the time I'm finished, I feel completely exhausted. The muscles inside my pussy are straining against him. I'm _definitely_ going to be feeling this tomorrow.

He leans down to kiss me, his cock just barely pulling out from his deep-seated impression he's carved inside of me. He pulls back and I look up to see his pearly white smile. I find myself returning the smile with a weak one of my own. Even my cheek muscles feel completely spent.

Gordon leans even further until his lips are next to my ear.

"I'm going to fill your tight little cunt up with my cum, (Y/N). I want you to keep it inside of you when you head back to the dorms. Do I make myself clear? Don't clean up until you get back to the room," he commands.

I nod. Unable to respond, I just bite my lower lip.

"Good girl," he says before he begins thrusting into me again. This time, he keeps a steady rhythm driving his cock into me. Once his face starts to contort with the tell-tale signs of him about to cum, he rams his cock into the deepest parts of me before letting loose his cum into my trembling pussy.

He slowly pulls his cock from me. When it finally comes all the way out, some cum follows it. I struggle to imagine how much I must be holding inside myself if there's already some dripping out.

Gordon helps me into a seated position and grabs the cushion from the floor, placing it back on the couch.

"That... was... amazing..." I manage to say, each breath I take sends shudders through me and threatens to spill the precious load I'd promised to keep.

"It was," Gordon sits down next to me on the couch and leans his head into my shoulder.

"I love you," he whispers sincerely, one hand moving to squeeze my thigh.

"I love you too, Gordon," I whisper in return, resting my cheek on his ruffled blond hair.

If only this moment could last forever.


	55. Just Three Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get some things off our mind.

Sunday, July 7th, 2013

"Hey, Gordon?" I ask.

"Yes, love?" he lifts his head from my shoulder and turns to face me. His beautiful blue eyes are mesmerizing. It takes me a moment to collect myself before I can get my question out.

"I just had uh, three things I wanted to say. The first one is, do you need me to talk about what I saw with Garrett still?" I tilt my head.

Gordon laughs. "No, dear, we have it all on film and that's enough to prove what happened. It was a convincing reason for you to come see me in my office though, wasn't it?" he gives me a mischievous grin. 

"Very clever," I smile back at him. "The second thing I wanted to say was that I think Pietro has an inkling of what we've been up to. He made a hint like he knew something and I'm nervous," I bite my lip worriedly.

"What exactly did he say?" Gordon asks while he runs his fingers across my thigh tantalizingly.

"He was ragging on Bella for flirting with that student-teacher the other day and then said something like 'at least he wasn't _married_ '. I'm not sure if he was directing that at me but he gave me a look that sort of told me he was..." I grimace.

"We'll try to be extra careful around him, then. That's all we can do, really," Gordon shrugs. He doesn't seem too worried about it and I start to feel a bit silly for being so anxious.

"What was the third thing?" Gordon inquires as he runs his fingers from my thigh up to my stomach and then to my breast where he squeezes one nipple between his fingers.

I feel sensations shoot all over my body as he plays with me, it makes it kind of difficult to ask my last question, but I manage to get it out, "Why is Bella even still here?"

Gordon snorts and shakes his head like he's just been told a hilarious joke.

"No, I'm serious! She's such a pain in the ass!" I start to say, getting a bit defensive.

"Of course she is, she's the producers' favorite type of contestant. A bit ditsy, mean and flirty. To some people, she might be considered attractive. They love putting segments with women like her in the show for _dramatic flavor_. The viewers eat that up like candy. Unfortunately, unless she really fucks up, I can't remove her without backlash from the producers. They don't give me a lot of say with their precious drama queens or kings until we get to the black jackets," Gordon says, rolling my nipple between his fingers. 

"Well, I suppose that makes sense. Stupid producers really make our lives tough having to deal with her shit all the time. Ugh," I grimace. 

Gordon gives me a playful look. "You're so cute when you're disgruntled. It makes me want to tease you just to see that little pout of yours. Of course, I'm a gentleman, so I won't do it," he says as he releases my extra-tender nipple and slides his hand down the side of my body.

"Oh yes, so gentleman-like, thank you so much, _sir_ ," I roll my eyes lightheartedly.

At the word 'sir', his eyes shoot up from my stomach to lock onto mine. I feel my breath catch in my throat at the intensity of his ice-blue gaze.

"You're so welcome, pet," he says, his voice husky. I gulp and feel my mouth hanging open as if I've been hypnotized by his voice alone. 

"Now be a good girl and get dressed and get back to the dorms, yeah? It's been almost an hour and thirty minutes. We wouldn't want them to start to miss you too badly and try to come looking for you..." he leans in to kiss me and I find myself eagerly reciprocating the kiss, hungry for his touch.

When we break from our kiss, I can't help but plead with him, "Please find a way for us to be together again soon, Gordon, I'm so..." I pause, looking for the words to say, "so in love with you it hurts to not be able to touch you..." I trail off.

"I'll try, my love. I promise," he says sincerely before he gets up and hands me my clothes.

I very carefully slip on my panties and leggings, then latch my bra and pull my t-shirt over the top.

"You might want to ah, smooth your hair a bit," he raises an eyebrow, amused.

I try to run my fingers through my hair to untangle it. It's a mess from having been so mercilessly ground into the sofa, but eventually, it stops catching on my fingers.

"Beautiful, just beautiful," Gordon says appreciatively and offers me his hand. I blush as I take his hand and pull myself carefully up from the sofa.

He pulls me into his still naked body and leans in close to my ear. "Think of me when you're showering. I'll be thinking of you at the same time..." he whispers, then leads me to the door of his office.

"I love you, Gordon," I say as I squeeze his hand, not wanting to let go.

"I love you too, (Y/N). Now, be sure to slowly walk down the stairs, yeah?" he winks.

"Of course," I grin and stand on my toes to kiss him one last time. The smell of sex and cologne fills my nose. It makes me consider that I probably need to rush to the showers as fast as I can so that no one can catch the same smell on me when I get back to the dorms.

Gordon opens the door for me and I slip outside the room. He pats my ass on the way out and gives me a beaming smile before he closes the door. 

Thankfully, the kitchens are empty. I slowly walk down the stairs from his office and feel a bit of his cum slip out of me. I peer down at my crotch and I can't yet see any wetness on the outside of my leggings. Good God, I should have worn a color other than grey.

I carefully make my way through the empty kitchens and then up the stairs to the dorms. When I enter, everyone is chatting to Pietro and Taylor by the dorm kitchens. Taylor and Pietro are the only people facing me, and only Taylor catches my eye. She starts to wave me over but I shake my head. She gets the gist of what I'm trying to tell her and turns back to the others to continue telling about her adventures on the prize she and Pietro had won together.

I slip into the showers and strip down. The cool water runs over my body and helps to wash away the smell of our 'activities' earlier. His thick cum dribbles down my leg and I find myself missing the feeling of him inside of me. 

_Gordon really has me wrapped around his finger, doesn't he?_ I muse. It's just where I love to be.


	56. Girlfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taylor intercepts us for a conversation.

Sunday, July 7th, 2013

I emerge from my shower feeling refreshed and satisfied. Gordon was right, already I can feel an ache where he mercilessly drove himself into me. Tomorrow, I'm sure the ache will be much stronger. I take a moment to savor the sensations he's left me with as I wrap myself in a robe before I step out from the bathroom. 

When I open the door from the bathroom, Taylor greets me with a wave from where she's sitting at the edge of the bed nearest the door.

"(Y/N)! I missed you last night. Pietro and I had a lot of fun on our trip, even though Pietro couldn't do most of the climbing stuff. You should have seen him trying to get up to the treehouse," she giggles as she pats the side of the bed. I oblige and sit next to her with a smile of my own.

"So, what were you off doing when I got back?" Taylor says with her voice much lower than before. The eagerness in her question is evident.

"Chef Ramsay had me meet his wife today..." I begin as I play with the ends of my robe's cloth belt, "she actually seemed to like me. Then, ah, she left Gordon and me alone for an hour or so..." I look at Taylor out of the corner of my eye bashfully.

She jitters in place on the bed and bounces a bit. "Oh my goodness this is so exciting! So, like, are you and Chef a thing now? For real?" she looks to me with her eyes gleaming.

I hesitate. This would be the first time I tell anyone about Gordon and I's relationship. Taylor has known some, but I haven't told her too much. She's been loyal this whole time and even sacrificed her time at the rooftop pool to cover for me. I guess it's only fair for her to be the first to know.

I feel my cheeks start to heat up before I even begin to respond. 

"Yeah. Yeah, we are. Gordon-" I lean in even closer to Taylor, who cranes her neck towards me, "Gordon told me he loves me. I-I told him I love him too. And I really do. I'm a mess, aren't I?" 

Taylor covers her mouth with her hand to keep herself from squealing in girlish joy.

"Oh my GOD, (Y/N), you're Gordon Ramsay's _girlfriend_?!" she whisper-shouts from between her fingers. 

I hush her and nod my head as the reality of the situation dons on me. This isn't just a shared fantasy between Gordon and me anymore. This is a real relationship that, soon enough, people will know about if I keep it up.

"I can't believe I'm best friends with Gordon's girlfriend," Taylor wistfully says as she takes her hand from her mouth. "This is closer to celebrity-dom than I ever thought I'd get. Are you going to tell people?" Taylor asks, concerned eyes resting on my reddened face.

"I... I'm not sure," I mumble, "won't people hate me if they see me with a married man? Even if his wife approves, it isn't really normal at all, is it?"

Taylor shrugs. "I mean, I can see how happy you make him. He calms down a lot easier when you're around, you know? Maybe if people see you on this show then hear about you two being together, they might not think it is such a bad thing. Especially if Tana lets the general public know she doesn't mind."

"Really? You think so? I'm just worried about people's ideas of me they might get. I don't want people to hate me right at the start of my chef career," I lament.

"They might not hate you. It'll be a shock, for sure, but if you guys handle it right I don't think it'll be too bad honestly," Taylor says. I give her an incredulous look. 

"Yeaaah, right, I don't believe that for a second. Chef Ramsay told me that people like Bella on the show for her drama. If they like her, they'll LOVE the story of our romance right on the set of Hell's Kitchen for all the wrong reasons," I drop my head into my hands and sigh heavily.

"Girl, it's all about how you frame it for the people. Just be sure that Tana is quick to tell that she allowed you and Gordon to do this if and when word gets out. She'll be your saving grace, I think," Taylor nods to herself.

What Taylor is saying makes sense. I'll have to depend upon Tana to save me from the backlash of our unique situation. Well, unique in the public world of show business and celebrities, at least.

"Thank you, Tay, I'm glad I talked to you about this. I'm so nervous, you know, I never thought I'd have to deal with all these emotions and possibilities. Thank you for being there for me," I give her a sincere grin as I raise my head from my hands.

"Of course! This is way crazy for me too, but I'm glad to help. You're a good friend too, (Y/N)," Taylor says.

I continue smiling before realizing I missed what she told everyone about her trip! 

"Oh! Taylor, can you tell me about your prize? How was it?" I ask.

"It was great," she starts, "we rode zip lines over the trees and I did some obstacle courses while Pietro cheered me on. Pietro's a good guy, you know? He asked me about myself and you. He seems to really care-"

I cut her off. "Sorry, but he asked about me? What specifically did he ask?" I tilt my head worriedly.

"Oh, nothing bad! He asked me about that time after he got you to go talk to Ramsay on that day he did evaluations. He said he didn't see you when he went back to ask another question and since I'm your friend he thought I might have known where you went," she recalls.

"What did you tell him?" I press for more answers.

"I just said you came back and we went outside for some fresh air," she shrugs.

My body tenses up. I'd told Pietro I didn't talk to Ramsay long and instead went to the bathroom. Now, Taylor told him something entirely different. I'm _so_ fucked. 

Taylor catches on to my worried look. "What is it? Did I say something wrong?" 

I try to keep myself from panicking with a few deep breaths before I respond. "I'd told Pietro he'd missed me because of my being in the bathroom..." I grimace.

"Well, maybe you went to the bathroom and then outside with me?" Taylor offers.

"Maybe. I just think Pietro is smart enough to realize that one or the both of us are lying," I say as I rub my arm nervously.

Taylor looks down at the bed cover and squeezes some of the fabric between her fingers.

"I'm sorry if I said something wrong, (Y/N). It's hard to keep up with what I should and shouldn't say. It's not like I could text you to ask..." she frowns.

I sigh. "It's alright Taylor, you didn't know what I'd told him. I didn't even think about it really until yesterday when Pietro made a jab at me with his 'at least he isn't married' comment. I should have filled you in. It's my fault."

Taylor starts to rub my back. "Let's just look on the bright side, alright? Don't let overthinking things get to you. Instead, think about how amazing it is that Gordon's wife actually likes you and doesn't mind you in his life. That's pretty amazing, right? Let's focus on that," she says, then hops from the bed and offers me her hand.

I take it and she pulls me up from the bed.

"Come on, get dressed and then let's finish making lunch with everyone else. Kalyani told us she's gonna teach us how to do some of the techniques she learned at the chocolate confectioners, so that'll be fun!" Taylor smiles.

I don fresh clothes then emerge from the bathroom once more. Taylor rubs my back before opening the door from the dorms to the living area and leading us both back into reality.


	57. Budget Challenge Part 1/3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The budget challenge gets under way!

Monday, July 8th, 2013

After a good teaching session from Kalyani, all of the women filed into bed refreshed. The morning came early, but thankfully I'd been so exhausted from- _ahem_ \- _activities_ , that I slept like a baby and was ready for the early awakening.

"Goooood mooooorning sunshineeees!" Christina's sing-song voice filters through the door. I sit up from the bed and stretch my arms out over my head before I amble into the main room.

"Chef Ramsay has a challenge waiting for you all downstairs. Get ready and come on down in the next ten minutes, go go go!" she claps with each 'go' she says before she turns to head back down the stairs.

I rush to the bathroom to try and get ready as fast as I can. When I close the door behind me, I feel an unwelcome, familiar sensation. My inkling is confirmed as the familiar monthly crimson red stain greets me. A twinge of sadness hits me, and for a moment I feel confused as to why. Sure, Aunt Flo's visit is annoying, but it was expected, right? 

... Right?

Then, a second thought comes to the forefront of my mind.

Maybe I didn't want to have my period.

I try to push the absurd thought from my head, but it sits there like a two-ton rock, refusing to move. 

Gordon said he was _basically_ infertile. I don't know why I'm letting my mind be consumed by the near-impossible potentialities. I felt insane for even thinking it, really. We'd only just established a relationship. Imagine what the tabloids would say about Gordon's pregnant girlfriend who obviously must have gotten pregnant on the show. Ohh boy. On second thought, that'd be so big of a story, forget the tabloids. We'd be headline news on all broadcast channels across the US and potentially across the UK as well. 

_Knock knock_

"Hey, (Y/N), you done in there? We're almost late!" Taylor's worried voice sounds through the door.

"Uh, yeah, you go on down, I'll be down in a second!" I finish up in the restroom and emerge a minute later. I run downstairs and am the last person to line up outside of the kitchens. Gordon is standing at the front as per usual, looking his normal, exuberant self. 

"Morning, everyone!" he cheerily greets us.

"Morning, Chef!" we return the greeting.

"I've got a fun challenge for you all today," he grasps his hands together in front of himself, "we'll be headed to the grocery store. Each person on each team will have just fifteen dollars to pick out ingredients. Your goal is to make a dish worth far more than you spent on ingredients to make it, yeah? Each team's total value of dishes will be added together and the team with the most value for their money will win! Easy enough? Let's get to our ride, then!" Gordon smiles, waves us to the front door and then holds it open for us. 

As I pass by Gordon in the doorway, I feel him watching me. Since I already know I can't help but respond to his affectionate looks if I were to lock eyes with him, I try and ignore him as best as I can. But no matter how I try to conceal my affections, my earlier thoughts of carrying his child claw back into my mind and cause me to heat up under my collar as I pass under his gaze.

Each team has one SUV assigned to them I feel a bit of disappointment as Gordon joins the men, but I suppose it makes sense. 

We drive for about twenty minutes in relative silence. Bella is a lot more distant than usual and stares out of the window the entire trip.

When we arrive at the grocery store, Gordon hands us each fifteen dollars. When it comes to my turn to take his money, he trails his fingertips across the palm of my hand before taking his hand away from mine. The small gesture makes a smile tug at the corners of my lips, but I try and remain stoic for the cameras. 

"You have ten minutes to gather your ingredients! Aaand..." Chef Ramsay pauses for a moment, "Go!"

We scatter in all directions, taking off as fast as we can to each corner of the store.

I've no idea what I want to make, so I head for the fresh meat and seafood section to see what cheap and delicious protein I want to include in my meal. There are a few other chefs also back here with me, but I ignore them and instead focus on prices.

My eyes scan over the fresh seafood section until they lock onto a yellow 'sale' sign. 

Fresh clams for only $3 an ounce. A dish begins to form in my mind.

"An ounce and a half of clams, please!" I ask the man behind the counter. He nods before pulling out my clams and putting them on a scale. $4.50 for the claims. Perfect. That leaves about $11 for me to work with. 

The hurried form of Kalyani rushes past the seafood counter, clutching her ingredients tight to her chest. She almost runs into Dave, who steps out from a nearby aisle and has to lean back to avoid a collision. I giggle to myself as I look up at the aisles and try to find my next destination.

My eyes lock on to the oils and sauces aisle. I rush to it and begin scanning the shelves for the tiny bottles of Japanese cooking wine, called Mirin. I spy the bottle on the bottom shelf and check the price. $4. I'm down to $7, probably more like $6 with tax.

I need just one more bottle from this section, rice vinegar. I hiss through my teeth as I see the price. It's $5 for a small bottle, leaving me with only a dollar some cents left.

Now I just need some soy sauce and green onion. Thinking quickly, I head to the freshly rolled sushi counter and search the shelves of packed sushi rolls for... perfect! Individual packages of soy sauce, free of charge. I smirk as I pocket a few, proud that I've managed to save my dish, so long as green onions are as cheap as they should be.

I head to the vegetable section and pick a single green onion from the batch. Only 35 cents. This should be exactly enough!

With my arms full, I head to the cash register and the older cashier woman greets me. I greet her back and lay out my ingredients on the conveyor belt. She scans them and I watch the price total rise with great anticipation.

The neon green sign flashes a clean $14.95.

I pump my fist gleefully and take my bag and change from the cashier woman. Gordon is standing by the exit to the grocery store and smiles when he sees me approach.

"First done, eh? Excellent," he beams. 

"Yeah, I think I've got the perfect ingredients!" I puff up proudly.

"I'm sure you do, (Y/N)," Gordon gives me one last grin before he turns to watch the other chefs scuttle about the store with an amused expression on his face.

At one point, Gordon nudges me to get my attention on Gina as she rings up $16.90 and storms off cursing down the aisles. He chuckles before returning to his normal, arms-crossed stance.

Eventually, the other chefs join us at the exit with bags in hand.

"Happy with your ingredients, Chefs?" Gordon inquires.

"Yes, Chef!" we respond.

"Then let's get back and get to cooking!" he claps, then leads us out of the exit doors.


	58. Budget Challenge Part 2/3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuation of our budget challenge!

Monday, July 8th, 2013

On the ride back, Bella finally seems to have found some of her previous spunk. She goes through her ingredients and shows some of them to Kalyani, who nods. I can't tell if she's feigning interest or if she really is interested in the items that Bella shows her. Red sits at my side and I feel her small shoulder bump into my arm as we take a sharp corner heading towards the giant steel trident marking the entrance to Hell's Kitchen.

We pull up to the entrance. Jean-Philippe is quick to open our door and help us out of the tall SUV. Each of us takes our bag of ingredients and rush into the building, intent on getting a head start on prepping our meals. Gordon follows us and shouts out to us as we begin prepping our food.

"You'll have forty-five minutes to prepare something delicious! Make sure it looks beautiful too, presentation is very important in determining the value of food. You can have the most delectable meal ever but if it looks like shit, no one will ever want to buy it!" he reminds us.

I nod to myself, remembering what Gordon had told me on my very first day here. I won't give him anything but the very best!

The very first step of my dish is to soak and scrub the clams. Five minutes of cleaning should be good enough, considering these are store-bought and they likely will have cleaned them on their own. Still, better to be safe than sorry. I don't want Ramsay getting a mouthful of dirt, he wouldn't appreciate it as much as that vegan chef De Souza might have. I snicker to myself as I scrub the outer shells of the clams, remembering the eccentric lady. 

Gordon walks through the kitchens with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Thirty minutes, Chefs!" he calls out.

I consider how long my dish is going to take to cook. I don't want it to be dead on the plate by the time anyone eats it. Cooking should only take about ten minutes. So I have twenty minutes to spare... doing what? I look around the kitchen and see everyone else working at a station. 

How can I spend this time to really elevate my dish? 

Chewing on my lower lip as I think, I grab my green onion and try to visualize something beautiful being made from it. 

Most people would just chop the green onion and leave it at that. I think I have time to do something better. I'll only have one shot at it though, since I could only afford to purchase one single green onion.

I carefully take my knife and cut the long, thin leaves of the top of the onion off. I stack the leaves, then cut them lengthwise rather than across. The extra thin leaves are straight, but I know just what will give them an elegant curl.

Taking a small bowl, I fill it with ice and water. Then, I drop my chopped green onion strips and push them down into the water, under the ice. 

"Twenty minutes to go, everyone!" Gordon reminds us.

I set a wok on the stove and turn it to high. After it's hot, I pour in eight teaspoons of the Mirin sake and two teaspoons of rice vinegar. Once that starts to bubble a bit, I place my freshly washed clams into the wok and cover it with a lid.

After five minutes, I lift the lid and check on my clams. Thankfully, all of them have opened, which means I won't have to throw any out. 

Using a spoon, I scoop off the murky film that bunches up around some of the clams. Then, I stir in three tablespoons of butter and one pack of soy sauce. Finally, I grab some of the now-curled green onion from the nearby chilled water bowl and toss them in. I baste the clams as the butter melts until the butter disappears completely. 

"Five minutes, everyone, get to plating!" Gordon shouts.

I grab a rectangular plate and place my clams carefully and deliberately in an eye-pleasing pattern of zig zags across the plate. Then, I drizzle some of the sauce over the top in wide arcs, making a rich dark brown trail of color across the clams. Finally, I place the rest of the green onion curls at the tips of each of the sauce's arcs. It truly does look beautiful. Hopefully Gordon agrees. I place my silver dome over the top.

"Time!" Chef Ramsay's voice signals the end of our challenge.

I line up with everyone else outside of the kitchens with my silver-domed plate directly behind me. 

Gordon waits for us all to look to him before he begins speaking.

"Well done, everyone. Now, as I explained earlier, myself and a pair of guest judges will be pricing your dishes according to how much we'd be willing to pay for it. Let's introduce our judges now, shall we?"

Gordon opens his arm towards the door. "Please join me in welcoming the owners of 'Bestia', voted one of the top ten best new restaurants of 2013. It is run by the husband and wife team, Chefs Ori Menashe and Genevieve Gergis!"

We all clap as the two chefs make their entrance, hand in hand. I find my mind wandering to if Chef Ramsay and I would ever be like that couple, being invited to come try dishes out somewhere and arriving with our hands interlocked...

"Good to meet everyone! We're excited to have been invited to come try out your delectable dishes!" Ori greets us, tearing me from my reverie. His wife waves at us from his side.

I know I've tried my best with my dish, and now all I can hope for is that my team have all done the same. 


	59. Budget Challenge Part 3/3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion to our budget challenge!

Monday, July 8th, 2013

"Let's have Dave and Gina up first," Gordon motions for the two chefs to come forward.

They both approach the judging table and set their domed plates down to either side of the table.

"Dave, will you please present your dish?" Gordon asks, opening his palm towards his domed platter.

Dave obeys Gordon's cue and removes the dome from his plate, laying out his dish on the table for the judges.

"Chefs, today I've made a delicious tuna melt with avocado and muenster cheese." 

Dave watches closely as the chefs examine his plate.

"It's pretty lackluster, Dave," Chef Ori frowns as he looks at the plain-looking dish.

"Yeah, I have to agree with my husband here, it wouldn't really grab my attention if I were to see it on a menu," Genevieve looks up at Dave from the dish and shrugs.

Gordon taps his chin with his finger, but remains silent.

Each chef tries a bite of Dave's dish before they sit back in their chairs.

"Honestly, it wasn't bad. I just can't see myself ordering it from a menu, though, you know?" Ori looks to his wife, who nods her agreement.

"What do you both think this dish should be valued at?" Gordon inquires, looking to the couple.

"I'd pay about twelve dollars for this," Ori says. 

"Maybe fifteen?" his wife follows up.

Gordon sighs before he gives his verdict, "Probably about thirteen dollars from me. Pretty disappointing, Dave. I would have thought you'd put in more effort after yours and Bella's failure at training the students. Your total combined value of the dish is going to be," he looks at the TV that descends from the ceiling, "thirteen dollars and thirty three cents."

Dave frowns as he takes his plate back and returns to the line. 

Gordon turns to Gina, who smiles at him when he addresses her. I haven't forgotten how she had been checking him out the first day we were here, but she's a lot less desperate than Bella and has never pushed for Gordon's attention. I can respect that about her. 

"Gina, will you please present your dish and tell us all about it?" Gordon requests.

Gina removes the lid of her dish and places it on the table as she begins to describe it, "Today I've made shrimp fra diavolvo, which is shrimp with onion, tomatoes, white wine, garlic and some crushed red pepper flakes. I hope you think it's good!" she cheerily says as she takes a step back.

Genevieve and her husband both try a bite, along with Chef Ramsay.

"What did you think?" Gordon asks the couple.

"Very good!" Genevieve smiles broadly, "The textures were pleasing, none of the flavors were overwhelming, just overall a real stellar job."

Ori taps his fork on the plate. "I mean, I thought it was good but it wasn't really that expensive of a dish, you know?"

Gordon nods. "Have you decided on what you'd pay for this?"

Genevieve speaks up first, "Yes, Chef, I think I'd pay about twenty dollars for this."

Ori turns to Gina, "Excellent work Gina, I'd pay seventeen."

Gina bounces on her toes delightedly. 

"And I'd pay about eighteen. That makes your total value eighteen dollars and thirty three cents! Well done, Gina," Gordon praises her.

Gina takes her plate back and high fives Red, Taylor and I as she takes her place in line.

"Next up, let's have Shaun and Mary," Gordon curls his finger towards himself, beckoning the pair forward.

"Shaun, will you please describe your dish to us?" Gordon cocks his head.

"Of course, Chef. I have here some specially made chicken and spinach enchiladas with three different types of cheese and fresh, thinly sliced tomato," he flourishes open the lid and places the plate in front of the judges. 

"Usually, enchiladas don't look particularly good but I love what you've done with the garnish of spinach on top. It looks great," Ori appreciatively gestures at the plate with a grin.

Genevieve takes a bite before humming, "Mmmm! Wow, which cheeses did you use?"

"Goat cheese, feta and good 'ole American cheddar," Shaun smiles.

"Excellent combination, I'll have to remember that," Genevieve pats her stomach.

Gordon tries some and one of his eyebrows raise.

"I thought they were just hyping you up for the camera, but this is truly very delicious," Gordon cuts another piece and eats it. Once he finishes, he turns to the other two judges and asks for their opinion on the value.

"Oh, this one is twenty two at least," Ori says.

"Yep, twenty two, I agree!" his wife concurs.

"I don't know how we all thought the same thing, but twenty two indeed, Shaun. Never did I think an enchilada would be so bloody delicious!" Gordon hands him his plate back with an appreciative nod of his head.

Shaun beams with pride as he takes his plate back to the blue team lineup. He receives slaps on the back and a few high fives from his teammates.

Gordon faces Mary, who's ears tinge red as he waits for the blue team to settle down.

"Mary, what do you have for us?" he asks.

"Uh, today I made a, uh, roast chicken with potatoes and butternut squash," she mumbles.

"Please Mary, you're going to have to learn to speak up. I know you have passion in you, please show me you can speak louder than a mouse!" Gordon asks exasperatedly.

"Y-yes Chef!" she squeaks, louder than before but still somewhat muted.

"It looks good," Ori says, saving Red from Gordon's piercing eyes as he turns to respectfully listen to Ori.

"Yeah, it does. You have some great chefs this season, Gordon!" Genevieve compliments Gordon.

"They are remarkably good this season, I must agree," Gordon muses before he takes a bite of Red's dish and passes it down the line.

After each Chef has tried some of Red's chicken, Gordon inquires as to what they would be willing to pay.

"I'd pay about twenty dollars for that," Genevieve appraises the dish.

"I'd go with about nineteen dollars. Pretty well done, Mary," Ori gives her a reassuring smile. 

"I'll have to say I'd pay about nineteen for this as well, Mary. That puts your dish at nineteen dollars and thirty three cents, well done," Gordon hands her the dish back, but stops her with his hand out before she can leave.

"Mary, I'm going to need to hear you speak up, my dear. You can't hope to run a kitchen if you can't be heard from two feet away. Please, work on that, right?" he asks her. 

Red freezes for a moment before fiercely nodding and responding with much more vigor- "Yes, Chef!" before returning to line.

I high five Red as she returns and she gives me a determined glance, her face set in a look of conviction. I find myself feeling proud of her, and I hope that she can keep up her confidence.

"Next up, can I please have (Y/N) and Kalyani step forward?" Gordon asks.

I take hold of my domed platter and carry it forward, Kalyani keeping pace with me.

Gordon keeps his eyes on me as I come towards him, but flicks his attention to Kalyani when she comes to a stop in front of the table.

"Kalyani, care to describe your dish for us?" he says.

"Yes, Chef. I spent my time making ground beef and feta stuffed green peppers for your enjoyment. Please," she hands the plate over, "I hope you like it."

"This looks more like an appetizer than a meal, you know?" Genevieve directs the question to her husband, who nods, agreeing with her.

"Yeah, it does. But that doesn't mean it won't be worth more than fifteen dollars," he says before he takes a bite of the dish along with the rest of the Chefs.

"Right, Ori, what did you think that was worth?" Gordon tilts his head, his blond bangs falling to the side. I am reminded of how soft his hair feels when I twine my fingers in it, and find myself sighing a bit in desire before I catch my breath and hold it, hoping no one heard.

Ori grins before replying, "Why Chef, I believe this is exactly worth fifteen dollars."

His wife laughs, then nods, "Yep, fifteen dollars sounds good!"

Gordon looks to Kalyani, "I'd say seventeen, which puts you at fifteen dollars and sixty six cents. Not great, but not terrible either. Thank you, Kalyani," he says as he hands the plate back over.

Kalyani tries not to look sour and turns to head back to the blue kitchen's lineup.

"Ah, (Y/N), what have you made to delight our pallets with today?" Gordon asks, a smile clearly evident on his lips and in his words.

"Hey Chefs," I start, trying with all my might to not begin blushing as Gordon's eyes trail down to my lips, a small gesture I'm sure only I could make out, "I wanted to try and make something a bit special. I was lucky, and clams were on sale today at the store, so I decided to make steamed clams in butter and sake."

I remove the dome and set the plate in front of the three Chefs. Ori's eyes widen as he examines the plating.

"This is just beautiful. I feel bad eating it, it looks like it should be framed and hung on a wall somewhere," he says as he leans in closer to the dish.

"I hope it tastes half as good as it looks," his wife says as she joins her husband in leaning forward.

Gordon, too, leans towards the dish before blinking rapidly as he withdraws his head.

"This is stunning. Just, absolutely stunning. Wow," he runs his fingers through his hair before picking up his fork and carefully taking a bite.

Gordon purses his lips. "(Y/N), it is beautiful, but the clams are slightly old. Just barely. I think in this case the presentation can make up for that, but I would have to dock at least a dollar of value from it based off the old clams," he gives me an apologetic look.

Genevieve nods. "Yeah, just barely past their prime. But I do love how it looks."

Ori agrees with the other two Chefs, "Old- but so, so appetizing in its presentation."

"Do we have an idea of what we'd pay for such a dish?" Gordon questions the two guest judges.

"Oh, I'd pay about twenty three dollars for that," Ori speculates.

"Twenty two from me," Genevieve states.

"Based off how beautiful it looks, I'm going to go with twenty four. I would have said twenty five if not for the clam's age. But still, extremely well done, (Y/N), your dish is valued at twenty three dollars on the nose." Gordon hands me my dish back and smiles.

I take the dish back and curse myself for not having checked the date on the clams. Seafood goes bad pretty quickly, and they were most likely on sale to clean the display case for new stock. I should have known that! But at least my dish is still the most highly valued of all the presented dishes so far. I try to take comfort in that as I take my place back in line, where Taylor rubs my back and whispers congratulations to me.

"Could Bella and Pietro take the front, please?" Gordon asks.

Both the chefs step out of line with their platters and approach the judging table. Bella somehow manages to keep herself from throwing her hips from side to side as she approaches the table. Maybe she's trying to be a bit more respectful of Dave? I can't really ever tell what she's got on her mind, even less so now that her and Dave have seemingly had a falling out.

"Please, Pietro, go on and present your dish first," Gordon requests.

"Sure, Chef. I made something extra tasty today. Mushroom and spinach stuffed chicken breasts on top of Alfredo noodles. You're gonna love it," Pietro beams as he hands the plate to Ori.

Ori takes the plate and sets it between himself and his wife.

"It looks delicious and oh-so-fattening," Ori says as he examines the hefty, ultra-stuffed chicken breast.

"I'm going to love it, I'm sure, but my arteries might not!" Genevieve jokes before taking a fork and knife and cutting off a generous portion.

"Mmh, wow, so creamy and delicious," Genevieve manages to say through her mouthful of food, hidden behind one hand that she holds in front of her mouth.

Ori nods his agreement. 

"Have a price in mind, Chefs?" Gordon asks after he finishes chewing his bite.

"Oh yeah, I'm gonna go with twenty three on this baby," Genevieve grins.

"It's going to be a twenty from me," Ori says, looking to Chef Ramsay.

"And a twenty three from me as well, Pietro. That sets the value of your plate at twenty two dollars. Wow. You guys really know how to make food on a budget, don't you?" he addresses all of us, sweeping his gaze across the room.

Pietro puffs up his chest proudly as he takes his plate back.

"Right, Bella, what have you made for us today?" Gordon asks, refocusing his eyes on her.

"Chefs, hey. I made sesame-soy meatballs for you all to try," she hands the dish over and silently waits for them to try the dish.

It's kind of astounding to me that she's changed her attitude so much just in the last few days since we'd visited the school. It's possible that she really does feel something for Dave. Could she truly be remorseful for her actions? It seems hard to believe.

After each chef tries her meatballs, she looks to them expectantly.

"What do we think it's worth, Chefs?" Gordon asks the two judges beside him.

"It was pretty good, not anything special but still not bad. I'd say nineteen dollars," Ori says.

"Mmm, yeah, it was good but it was just plain looking. I'll go with eighteen dollars," Genevieve shrugs.

"And that's an eighteen dollar appraisal from me as well, Bella, which sets your total value to eighteen dollars and thirty three cents. Not bad. Go on and return to the lineup, yeah?" Gordon hands her the dish and waits for her to make it back to line.

"OK, our final two chefs are Taylor and Abel. Please, come join us at the front," Gordon slightly bows his head towards the table, signaling the pair to approach.

The two head to the table and wait for Gordon's instruction.

"Please, Abel, present your dish," Gordon asks.

"Chefs," Abel starts to speak as he lifts the lid of his plate, his smooth voice causing Genevieve to look up at him from his dish, "today I have made a pork chop on top of cherry couscous. Enjoy."

"I've never had cherry couscous before," Ori says speculatively, "I hope it's good."

Each chef takes a bite of Abel's dish while Abel stands calmly in front of them, his hands locked behind his back.

"OK, I've just decided I love cherry couscous," Ori grins before taking another forkful. 

His wife nudges him playfully, "I'll be sure to make it for you then."

Gordon places his hands on the table. "Prices, Chefs?"

"I'm going to say twenty four dollars for this one, Chef," Genevieve says.

"Definitely twenty five," her husband follows up.

"I was thinking twenty four as well, Genevieve. Excellent. Abel, your final price is twenty four dollars and thirty three cents. Astounding, young man," Gordon hands the plate back and Abel takes it with a small dip of his head.

I grimace. Once again, Abel has beaten my score by just a fraction. This is starting to piss me off. His dish wasn't even nearly as pretty as mine! Stupid old clams!

"Last but not least, Taylor, will you please present your dish for us?" Gordon asks.

Taylor removes the lid and hands her dish over to Genevieve.

"Heya, I made a pea and tomato carbonara!" she says cheerily.

"Looks good, Taylor!" Ori says before digging in.

"What did you think, Chefs?" Gordon asks as they finish eating.

"The peas were a bit under-cooked, but hey, it was good," Ori says.

"I mean, I like my peas a bit more firm. Ori always wants his peas like mush," Genevieve teases.

"Have you decided what you'd pay for this dish, Chefs?" Gordon inquires.

"Oh yes, I'd pay eighteen dollars for this," Genevieve says thoughtfully.

"I'd say eighteen as well, Chef," Ori agrees.

"Eighteen for me as well. Let's see each team's totals now," Gordon turns to the screen.

$96.99 lights up under the red team's prices. Then, the blue team's values are totaled- $97.32.

"Wow, red team, you've lost by a mere thirty three cents!" Gordon shakes his head, tutting, "That's too bad."

I grit my teeth. Are you serious? Thirty three cents?! My stupid old clams ruined our chances of winning!

"Thank you, Chefs, for joining me for the judging. I appreciate your opinions," Gordon kisses Genevieve's cheeks then shakes Ori's hand, "I'll be seeing you at your restaurant some time, yeah?"

"We hope so, Gordon!" Ori replies as they head out the door.

As soon as they've exited the building, Gordon turns to us.

"Blue team, well done indeed. You've won yourselves an all day trip to Universal Studios, Hollywood!" he claps his hands excitedly, and the blue team lights up in delight.

"Go on and get ready!" he waves the blue team off to their dorms. Once they've all dispersed, he addresses us.

"Red team, boy are you going to regret having lost. Today, since there will be no dinner service, Hell's Kitchen has adopted a highway. Which means you all will be out there cleaning all the gunk people toss from their car windows. Right nasty, disgusting, rotting food and other waste products. Do try and keep a strong stomach, yeah?" his eyes twinkle as he hears our collective groaning.

"But first, you'll need to clean up everyone's mess in the kitchens. Once you're done cleaning, go up to the dorms, get your yellow vests on and meet your SUV driver at the front so he can take you to your punishment. Hurry up now because you won't be leaving the highway until it's completely clean!" he shoos us from the kitchens and we all grumble as we head into the kitchens to begin cleaning.


	60. Cleanup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn something new on our punishment...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ||A/N: There is a hurricane coming towards me on my freakin honeymoon so I might not be able to update on time this coming week, I'm sorry!|

Monday, July 8th, 2013

Cleaning the kitchens is easy for us nowadays, we've gotten so used to it. Once we finish cleaning up everyone's mess, we head into the dorms and find our hi-vis yellow vests waiting for us on the beds.

I put on a plain white t-shirt and some old jeans before examining the vest. There's a black trident on the back and the letters "HK" on either side of the trident. It actually looks kinda cool, you know, for a construction worker's outfit.

"I've never been to Universal Studios, I would have liked to have gone..." Red says wistfully. 

"Me too, Red," Gina mumbles from the side of her bed where she's pulling on her vest.

We finish getting dressed then head down to the entrance of Hell's Kitchen where our sleek SUV awaits to bring us to the next part of our punishment. The blue team has already left long ago to their prize, and I wonder if Gordon has gone with them. I know he won't be out here helping us clean trash, that much is for sure.

We load into the SUV and it takes off towards the highway. 

After a thirty minute drive, we pull up to the side of the busy road. No one is there to open the door for us this time, so Gina opens it herself and hops out. We follow her, and I grab the stack of trash picker tools and a big case of large plastic bags from off the seat beside me.

The driver of the SUV- the same man who'd driven us to Hell's Kitchen in the first place- gathers our attention. I vaguely recall his name as being something like Paul.

"Ladies, you will be cleaning up this side of the road from this point aaaallll the way down to that street sign," he points off into the distance towards a minuscule blue dot that I can only presume is the sign he's talking about.

"Since you all don't have a phone, I'll be in the SUV waiting on you to finish. Be fast and thorough, alright? I don't want to be here all day," he asserts.

 _HE_ doesn't want to be here all day?! Sure, but we DEFINITELY want to spend our time here rather than enjoying a day out at Universal Studios. I huff and try to stop myself from rolling my eyes as I take a trash picker and a large bag and get to work seeking out trash.

Unfortunately, finding trash is incredibly easy. The people of Cali seemingly love to toss their half-eaten sandwiches, sticky cups and even rancid baby diapers out the windows of their cars. 

Gina, Red, Taylor and I all try to keep formation and work together moving in a diagonal line from the side of the road, picking up trash along the way. Bella decides that she's going to 'help' by trailing behind and picking up whatever small pieces of trash we'd missed, which doesn't amount to much but small candy wrappers and paper scraps. 

When I come across a condom in my path, I purposefully skip over it and wait with my ears perked.

" _EWWW,_ oh my GOD!" Bella shrieks. 

A wide grin spreads across my face as the other women turn around to look at Bella. I try to hide my smirk before I turn around to look at her as well.

"Someone threw a fucking condom out here! Augh!" she grimaces as she holds the condom away from herself with the trash picker. She moves it in a wide arc until it reaches her garbage bag and drops it in.

Small pleasures like this help me pass the time in the grueling heat of California in July.

When we're about halfway to the blue sign and directly underneath an overpass, Paul's SUV pulls up next to us. He gets out and distributes water bottles and bologna sandwiches.

"Keep up your strength ladies, you still have a ways to go!" he teases as he finishes handing out our meager lunch.

We sit on the concrete slope under the overpass and begin eating our sandwiches.

"Who do you think will be the next out?" Gina asks, starting up a conversation.

Red finishes her bite of sandwich before responding, "I think that it's probably gonna be Dave next. He seems to be falling behind."

Bella snaps her head up from her sandwich.

"It can't be Dave," she says quickly.

I raise my eyebrows. "Why can't it be?"

Bella bites her knuckle between her teeth and her eyes drift around the circle of women.

"Because..." she stops herself, then sighs.

"Because I'm pregnant."

We all sit in stunned silence. None of us continue to eat our sandwiches, we all just look at Bella with shock.

"Are you sure?" Taylor asks, leaning towards Bella and putting one hand on her leg.

Bella just gives a barely noticeable nod.

"I know how it felt the first time I was pregnant. This feels the same. I'm definitely pregnant. I haven't told him yet," she mumbles, "I wouldn't have been such a flirt had I known, now he doesn't want to talk to me and I feel like I should at least tell him..."

Wait, Bella has a kid? 

"If you want, I can try to talk to him," Taylor offers, giving Bella a concerned look.

Bella looks up at Taylor. "Would you? I can't seem to get him to let me talk to him. I'm just so lost as to what to do. I didn't expect anything like this to happen," she groans before dropping her head.

"Bella," I start, "you have a kid? How old are they? What's their name?" I can't help myself from asking.

"She's three and her name is Becca. My-" she hesitates before continuing, "My mom takes care of her for me. I wasn't ready to be a mom and I still don't think that I am. I can never seem to get a man to want to stay with me for longer than a few months. I think a year is my record," she says, raising her head meekly.

Well, maybe men would want to stay with you if you were loyal for more than five minutes, I find myself thinking. I recall how sorry for Dave that I've felt as I watched Bella flirt with any man who looked at her, and I can only imagine how he might have felt. Polyamory is one thing, but incessant flirting when your partner has not given you permission is an entirely different thing. 

Still, I feel sorry for her, even after all that she's said and done. The situation she's in with Dave is not one I'd ever hope to be in. 

Red scoots over to Bella and wraps her arm around her shoulder. Bella leans into Red and a single tear rolls down her cheek as she does so. 

It occurs to me that we'd never really been all too friendly to Bella. She's always been so nasty to us, we'd just tried our best to block her out. Besides, she'd always spent much more time with the boys than with any of us. But now it seems like she could really use some female comfort, and we all try to help her stay calm in the face of this unexpected turn of events.

We eventually finish our sandwiches. Red holds out her hand to Bella and helps her up from her seated position. Bella gives a grateful smile to her. Maybe she isn't all that bad.

We finish cleaning the highway, and this time I don't feel nearly as bothered with the fact that Bella has taken the easy job of following behind us. She has a lot to think about, and leaving her to her thoughts will hopefully give her some time to consider her situation.

Paul pulls up his SUV and we all load into it, exhausted after a long day in the sun. The colors of the sunset tinge the clouds as we travel on our way back to Hell's Kitchen. For the first time, the red team finally feels united.


	61. Dorm Discussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella and Dave have a moment.

Monday, July 8th, 2013

When we get back to the dorms, we all get changed and begin on making dinner. The blue team will likely have eaten already but we still decide to make a few extra portions just in case, since it's already 9pm and they will likely be returning soon.

In sticking with our tradition of simple meals that don't dredge up memories of being reprimanded by the Chef, we go with making simple tacos.

As I'm draining the fat from the beef, the blue team arrives at the top of the stairs and start filtering their way into the room, some of them heading back into the dorm bedrooms to put their assorted goodies from the trip away. Dave carries a large stuffed Toothless plush from 'How to train your Dragon' with him. The plush is as big as he is, and the tail drags on the ground behind him. He silently heads into the kitchen and walks over next to Bella, who's chopping lettuce for the tacos. She stops chopping the lettuce and raises her eyes to meet his with a curious look on her face.

"Hey, Bella," Dave begins hesitantly, then holds out the stuffed dragon, "I won this and I thought you might w-" his words are cut off by Bella's squeal of joy. She drops the knife with a clatter onto the chopping board and flings herself at Dave, who just barely manages to catch himself from falling backwards as she wraps her arms around his and the plush dragon's shoulders.

"I love it! Thank you, Dave!" she squeaks some more before planting a huge kiss on his lips. 

Dave smiles and closes his eyes, then wraps his arms around her back and pulls her tighter to him.

Taylor peers at me from where she's prepping the tomatoes and gives me a grin. It looks like her intervention won't be needed this time.

Bella pulls back from Dave with a wide smile across her face. She then takes his arm and leads him to the couch, setting the Toothless plush beside herself so that she can snuggle up to Dave's arm.

I can't hear what she's saying, but Dave's expression tells me all I need to know.

He goes from smiling, to straight-faced, to his eyebrows almost disappearing into his ruffled brown hair. He takes her arm and asks something, to which she nods and begins blushing.

While all of this is happening, I'm reminded of the fact that there have been mics and cameras on this entire development as it's been happening. This season of Hell's Kitchen is going to be a freakin' doozy for the audience.

Eventually, Dave kisses Bella's cheek and heads towards the men's dorm, his hand rubbing the back of his neck absentmindedly. I was able to see a small smile on his lips before he disappeared into the dorms. Bella takes her plush dragon into our dorm and comes back out looking chipper. She returns to her lettuce and smiles at us, and for the first time we all return her smile. Gina gives her two thumbs up, sticks her tongue out in a rocker fashion, and nods her head energetically. Bella laughs and flips her hair over her shoulder before resuming chopping the lettuce.

We finish making dinner and everyone sits down to eat at the table. Dave and Bella sit next to each other, and Dave has his hand resting on her thigh. Maybe things will be alright for them. 

The boys and Kalyani all talk about their adventures at Universal Studios, and for once I don't feel jealous. Today was important in bringing the red team together. We'll hopefully have a much better chance of winning dinner services now that we're all united. I feel myself smiling as I chow down on my tacos and listen in on the surrounding conversation.

"Did Chef Ramsay go with you guys?" Red asks, setting her half-eaten taco down.

"Na, he did see us off though. After we got loaded up to head to Universal Studios, a woman drove up next to the entrance in a nice sports car and he got in with her. Pretty sure it was his wife," Shaun responds.

At the mention of Tana, my eyes involuntarily shoot up from my food and lock onto Pietro's, who raised his head to meet my gaze at the same moment. I quickly avert my eyes, and thankfully Pietro doesn't call me out. I'll just have to be careful to be extra kind to him so he feels no reason to say anything to anyone.

The conversation eventually drifts to the rides that the blue team went on, and dinner finishes up at about nine thirty. 

Getting a good nights sleep seems like a good idea, so I start to get ready for bed as soon as I put my plate up. 

As I'm brushing my teeth, Taylor approaches me at the sink.

"Kinda crazy, you know, the thing about Bella today..." she begins putting toothpaste on her toothbrush.

I nod, then spit out my mouthful of toothpaste before I respond, "Yeah, it is. I hope her and Dave can continue to get along. For Bella's sake. It was nice that she finally stopped being catty and actually tried to get along with us for once."

Memories of my own thoughts on having Gordon's child dredge up from the back of my mind. I could have very well been in a similar position to Bella right now. 

Would Gordon even want another kid? He already has four. I had never even considered having a baby until now. I guess I've never been with anyone I thought to be good father material, so it never really came up. Maybe I should ask a hypothetical 'do you ever want more kids' question to Gordon, just to see how he responds. 

"(Y/N)?" Taylor's voice sounds at my side.

"Huh?" I ask, trying to focus on her.

"You kinda spaced out there. Are you alright?" Taylor pries.

"Oh? Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking about how crazy the last few days have been," I respond, trying to clear my head.

"They're only gonna get crazier," Taylor muses, rinsing off her toothbrush.

As we get closer to the black jackets and closer to having to reveal my secret relationship to the world, I know what Taylor just said can only be the truth.


	62. Prep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The newly united red team preps for their next dinner service!

Tuesday, July 9th, 2013

The next morning, the red team all wake up around the same time and get ready together. There's a general air of happiness around, which is very welcome. Hopefully with everyone feeling good, we can knock this next dinner service out of the park. 

Sous Chef Christina comes to collect us all from upstairs, and we all follow her into the kitchens.

Chef Ramsay stands at the front as per usual. I wonder if the chef's jacket that he's wearing was one that I'd ironed for him. The thought that it could be makes me smile a bit.

"Good morning, Chefs!" Gordon calls out to us.

"Good morning, Chef!" we respond cheerily.

"I know how badly you all must be missing dinner service, eh?" he muses.

A few of us groan playfully, to which Gordon grins.

"It has been quite a while since we've had an elimination, and your grace period ends now. Both today and tomorrow, one of you will be sent home. I want to see everyone on their very best behavior. Now, today there will not be a challenge because we have a whole lot of prep to get Hell's Kitchen prepared for family barbecue night! My family will be here, so please don't embarrass me," Gordon gives us a pleading look.

I feel my body tense up a bit. Gordon's entire family will be here? That obviously includes his children. I hadn't considered how meeting his children might go. I wonder what their understanding of Tana's boyfriend is. Hopefully both Gordon and Tana can tell me what's expected of me when it comes to the children. I try to loosen the tension in my body with a few deep breaths.

When I finally get my brain reorganized from the sudden onslaught of questions, Gordon's voice tunes back in.

"We'll be making beautiful grilled steaks, hamburgers, pulled pork sandwiches, cedar plank grilled fish, with shrimp kebabs and vegetable kebabs served table-side. Obviously, pulled pork will take a while in the slow cooker, so please get started on that first. While the pork is cooking, peel and de-vein all the shrimp for the kebabs. The rest of the prep should be self explanatory, yeah?" Gordon looks at us expectantly.

"Yes, Chef!" we respond as Sous Chefs Scott wheels out a cart with six slow cookers to the center of the room.

"Each team will have three slow cookers to tend to. Go on and grab one and get started on the pulled pork!" Gordon claps, then turns on his heel and takes the stairs to his office two at a time.

Our team brings our slow cookers in, and all of us get to work on prepping the pulled pork. We work together in great harmony now that Bella has finally stopped trying to be snarky with everyone and is trying to be helpful. We finish our slow cooker prep much before the men, and then head to the metal end table at the front of the kitchen that has a big container full of cold salt water and shrimp.

The process of de-veining a shrimp always kind of gave me a squicky feeling. It doesn't help that Gordon always seems to get the absolute freshest ingredients. 

I look for the first hinge on the shrimp's head, just below its eyeballs. I then cut right through it and remove the head. Now, I have to pull all the little legs off and then the shell. Then I slide off the tail and set the shrimp down on the cutting board. Finally, I slice my knife along the outer curve of the shrimp then fish out the vein with the tip of the knife before cleanly removing it from the meat. Finally, I set the shrimp in cool water to wait until we're ready to grill them. 

Only a few hundred more shrimp to go... sigh.

After a long while, we manage to finish up the shrimp and move on to the rest of our prep work. 

Eventually, dinner service begins to close in on us. Gordon appears at the head of the kitchen and calls us to him to assign us to stations.

"Bella on meats, Gina on fish, Mary on appetizers, Taylor on garnish and I want (Y/N) to serve our kebabs table-side, right?" Gordon passes his eyes over each of us, and we all nod. 

I gulp down some air. He wants me table-side? Now, not only will his family be in the dining room, but I'll be out there around them the entire time! If I make a fool of myself, I'm sure Tana and the kids will see it. 

"(Y/N), stay in the kitchen and help with appetizers until we get to entrees, then head out and do your magic for the crowd, yeah?" Gordon smiles at me.

"Of course, Chef," I nod and try not to betray my anxiety. Ordinarily, I'm sure Gordon would have caught on and pressed me for a reason as to why I've tensed up but thankfully he either doesn't notice or spares me the embarrassment of having to try and make up a reason as to why I'm suddenly heating up before the stoves are even on. 

The last step that we have to do to complete prep today is to shred the pork from our slow cookers. Taylor, Red and myself each take a hunk of pork from the slow cooker and get to work on shredding it with two forks. The meat is tender and juicy and shreds easily. Once it's all done, I put the shredded pork back into the juices of the slow cooker to marinate until it's needed for service.

"Everyone ready?" Gordon asks us, tilting his head from the front of the kitchens.

"Yes, Chef!" we shout back.

"Excellent. Jean-Philippe, would you do the honors of opening Hell's Kitchen for family barbecue night?" Chef Ramsay directs the question over his shoulder.

"Oui, Chef," Jean-Philippe walks to the front of Hell's Kitchen and opens the flood gates for parents and their small children to come streaming in.


	63. The Ninth Dinner Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our ninth dinner service!

Tuesday, July 9th, 2013

I would have liked to have seen Gordon's family come through the doors, but since I'd been tasked with helping with appetizers, I don't let my attention stray.

"First ticket, four covers table twenty three. Two herb risotto and two scallops!" Gordon shouts.

"Heard!" Red and I both acknowledge the ticket then get to work on the risotto. 

Gina calls me over after a few minutes, "Hey, (Y/N), can you work on these scallop orders? I think someone misplaced our prepped cedar planks..." 

"Of course, Gina, go on and find them I'll make sure these get out perfect,"I nod to her.

Gina takes off to the back of our kitchen and I can hear her fumbling with things. I turn my attention to the scallops and make sure they're cooking evenly.

"Ready to walk?" Red asks me, holding up her risotto pan. 

"Yeah, go on, I'm right behind you!" I call out, then follow Red to the pass with my scallops.

When I slide them down next to Ramsay, he checks them carefully.

"Excellent work as usual, (Y/N)," Gordon praises me, not turning his eyes away from the plates.

"Thank you, Chef," I beam as I return to the fish station. 

Gina makes it back after a few more minutes, hauling the cedar planks that had been soaking in salted water for the last two hours.

"Someone stuck this container under a sack of freakin' onions!" Gina mutters angrily as she stores the cedar planks under the fish station.

I head back to the appetizers station and work on the assorted appetizers until Gordon heads to the pass to announce our first entrees.

"(Y/N), out to the dining room you go. Be sure to listen out for the tickets, yeah? Jean-Philippe will show you to the table chart so you know where you're going. Hurry on, now!" Gordon shoos me from the kitchens.

I tie a fresh apron around myself so I'll look presentable, then head to meet with Jean-Philippe and the blue team member who's been chosen to serve the blue team's table-side kebabs.

Already I can see Dave pouring over the map of the kitchen tables. Jean-Philippe waves me over and directs my attention to the layout.

"These tables here are yours," JP indicates the tables I'll be responsible for on the map, "be sure to serve each table in accordance to the number of the table that Chef Ramsay calls out from the pass. If you get confused, this map will be here for you. Just be sure you don't serve the other team's table. I can't tell you how many times I've been embarrassed having to move someone away from a table that clearly has the opposite team's colored plates in front of them," JP sighs.

I nod to JP, then take my cart and wait for Gordon to call out where I'm needed. As I wait, I scan the tables. The first thing that catches my eye is an almost uncannily similar blond mop of hair sitting at a booth near the kitchens. It has to be Gordon's son, Jack. My suspicions are confirmed as I lock my gaze to the familiar brown eyes of Tana at their booth. Once again, her eyes crinkle with a smile.

"Table thirty, four covers, two shrimp kebabs, two vegetable kebabs and two steak!" Gordon's voice breaks me from my eye contact with his wife and spurs me to action.

I quickly glance at the map to be sure I'm headed to the right table, then push my table over to where there is a young woman, her husband, their teenage son and their baby daughter.

"Having a good time?" I strike up conversation with the guests.

"Oh yes!" the woman smiles, "It's so fun watching you all cook. My son loves to watch Hell's Kitchen with us. The censored version, of course!" she laughs as her son rolls his eyes.

I get to work on grilling their shrimp and vegetable kebabs on the portable grill. I flourish some olive oil as I cook, sending a plume of smoke into the air. The little girl grabs at the air with her hands from her high chair as she watches the smoke rise.

I skewer the shrimp and vegetables then hand them out to the hungry customers. 

"Thank you, young lady. Tom, say thank you to her," the woman's husband looks to his son, who's already started on eating his kebab.

" _Mmf_ \- fanks," the boy says through his mouthful of shrimp. His mother reaches over and ruffles his hair, to which he grunts and moves away from her touch, obviously embarrassed at his mother's affectionate gesture.

I serve a few more similar tables. Chef Ramsay can occasionally be heard belting insults at the other Chefs, but since it's not directed at me, I try to ignore the scathing words. Dave and I pass by each other occasionally, but never interact as we're both focused on serving our customers. I'd almost forgotten my reason for nearly panicking until I hear Gordon's voice cut through the air.

"VIP table, guys. This is my family we're serving. Two hamburgers, one pulled pork sandwich, one cedar plank fish, two vegetable and two shrimp kebabs! Got that, everyone?" Gordon asks.

"Yes, Chef!" everyone replies. I have to stop myself from shouting my response from the middle of the dining room. 

I don't need to look at the map to know where I'm headed now. Tana's gaze is already fixated on me as I push the cart up to their table.

"Hello, (Y/N)," Tana greets me warmly before I can even begin speaking.

"Hey, Tana," I smile timidly as I start working on their kebabs. 

"Kids, this is a friend of mine and Gordon's. She's working really hard on this season of Hell's Kitchen. (Y/N), I'd like you to meet our kids," she indicates the teen sitting next to her. She's the spitting image of her mother.

"This here is Megan. She's fifteen, just about to enter those disaster years," she giggles as Megan huffs, then indicates the two kids next to Megan.

"These two are Jack and Holly. They're both thirteen and drive me absolutely mad."

The twins both grin at me. When I look at Jack, all I can see is Chef Ramsay as a kid. It must be hard being the only boy in a family full of women, especially since his dad is always out doing things away from home.

"On the end there is Tilly. She's eleven and absolutely adores her father. I think she's got the most likelihood of turning out just like him," Tana says proudly as Tilly waves to me. She's absolutely adorable, and shows no signs of being shy.

"You could do with turning your grill up a bit higher. It might save you a minute or two of cook time," Tilly says, looking at my grill.

I glance down and see that it could probably benefit from a little more heat. I flick the knob a bit higher then smile at her.

"Thank you Tilly, I appreciate it," I say sincerely.

"No problem, (Y/N)!" she cheerily says before turning back to a coloring sheet in front of her plate.

I finish the kebabs just a bit quicker than I'd finished them for the other tables, thanks to Tilly's advice.  I serve them to Gordon's family before I'm drawn away for the next table. As I'm getting my cart ready to be pushed away, Tana reaches out and touches my arm. I turn to look at her.

"Thank you for the delicious food, dear. It was nice seeing you again," she takes her hand from my arm. As I push the cart away, both her and Tilly wave goodbye to me. 

I finish serving the last table, then head into the kitchens to see if there's anything I can help with. The red team is just working on desserts now, while the blue team is still on entrees. 

Gina grins at me as I head over to help plate the desserts.

"We did awesome, (Y/N). We rocked it. There's no chance any of us are goin' home tonight," she says as she finishes plating a lava cake.

Sure enough, we finish our desserts right as the men finish their entrees. Gordon requests for us all to shut off our stoves.

"I think it's clear the winner of today's service is the red team. Excellent work everyone. Now, blue team, head upstairs and decide on two people you'll be better off without. Red team, relax until we call you down for the blue team's elimination, yeah? Good work," Gordon praises us, then waves us up the stairs.

I ascend, happy that we'd all had a great service. Bella walks until she's at my side.

"Did Dave do alright out there serving tables?" she asks me, worry tinging her voice.

"Yeah, I think so. He had to wait around some for the blue team to keep up. He's most likely safe," I console Bella. She sighs with relief.

"Thank you, (Y/N). Good work out there today, too," she compliments me.

I'm almost taken aback. Bella? Compliment? I didn't even know it was possible!

"Thank you, Bella, good work holding the meat station together. I know we had a ton of meats today," I return the compliment.

She and I head into the dorm living room and join the other women on the couch.

Now, we wait.


	64. Elimination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who will be eliminated from the blue team today?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I had to drive THIRTEEN HOURS back from our honeymoon!

Tuesday, July 9th, 2013

It doesn't take long before the phone rings. Gina hops off the couch and runs to the phone, lifting it off the hook with a breathless, "Hey."

She nods quickly then hangs up the phone.

"Let's go get ready to watch the show, ladies," she says as she shoos us down the steps.

We file downstairs, through the kitchens and then into the dining rooms. Gordon is already standing at the middle of the dining room, bouncing on his toes. He nods to us as we slip into a nearby booth to wait for the blue team to come downstairs.

It only takes a minute or two before the men group up in front of the kitchens. I'd not been able to hear what happened in either kitchen while I was out serving our customers table side, so I'm really uncertain as to who will be voted to the chopping block.

Gordon clasps his hands behind his back.

"Blue team, please tell me you've come to a consensus," he says, his words sounding strained. Had he really needed to yell so much that he was losing his voice? I'd been so focused on the customers that I'd not been listening to his verbal assault on the kitchens, but now that I think of it, he had been yelling an awful lot.

"Yes, Chef," the blue team all respond at once.

"Good. Abel, first nominee and why, please?" Gordon inquires, then coughs a bit to clear his throat.

"Chef, our first nominee is Shaun. We chose him because of the problems with the meat station tonight, what with him having sent up two under-cooked hamburgers in a row and then the two over-cooked steaks. It was really hard for us to recover after that," Abel finishes.

"Alright, that makes sense. Your second nominee, if you would?" Gordon tilts his head, waiting.

"Our second nominee is Pietro. He had a hard time keeping up on the fish station, though I can understand some of that difficulty happening because of having to constantly remake his orders as Shaun kept sending up badly cooked meats," Abel shrugs his shoulders slightly.

"OK then. Shaun. Pietro. Get up here," Gordon points in front of himself.

My eyes lock on to Pietro as he heads to join Gordon in the spotlight. I'm not sure if it'd be a good or bad thing if he got kicked out now. On one hand, he'd be less likely to uncover anything else suspicious about our relationship. But on the other hand, once he's out of Hell's Kitchen he could tell just about anyone what his suspicions are. I'm not even sure how much he's put together at this point, but the thought of who he might blab to makes me incredibly anxious.

Gordon eyeballs the two chefs in front of him before sighing.

"Pietro, please tell me why you deserve to stay in Hell's Kitchen," he nods to signal Pietro's turn to speak.

"Chef, I might be the most improved chef out of the lot. I'm hungry for this prize, I want to be your head chef some day and I swear I'll prove to you that I deserve that position. What happened on fish today," he shifts his feet, "it was a fluke, Chef."

"A fluke?" Chef Ramsay echos Pietro's words.

"Yes, Chef. I was frazzled with all the changing times coming from the meat station. I'm certain if meat had been more organized, I would have been perfect," Pietro finishes.

Gordon shifts his attention to Shaun.

"Shaun, go on and explain to me why you deserve to stay in Hell's Kitchen with such a miserable performance," Ramsay gives Shaun a hard glare.

"Chef, I own up to my mistakes. It was a bad day for me, for sure. But you know I'm better than that. You know I've got passion for cooking and passion for being trained by the best Chef in the world. Please don't let me go, I want this more than anything," Shaun pleads.

Chef Ramsay sighs again, then runs one hand through his hair. 

"The Chef who will be sent home today is..." Gordon stops and his eyes flick between the two men standing in front of him, "Pietro,"

Pietro gasps a bit, then takes a step forward towards Chef Ramsay, unbuttoning his jacket. My heart catches in my throat. Once Pietro is gone, whatever he knows will be released out into the world with him.

"Back in line." 

I feel my shoulders drop as the tense anxiety runs out of me all at once. Good God, I'm going to give myself a freaking aneurysm being led on by Gordon's playing up drama for the camera. 

Pietro buttons his jacket back up, smiles at Chef Ramsay, then heads back into line with the others.

"I'm sorry, Shaun, but your time in Hell's Kitchen is through," Gordon curls his finger at Shaun, beckoning him forward.

"Na Chef, it's me who's sorry. I know I can do better than I did. I'm sorry I don't get to show you my true potential," Shaun laments as he hands Chef Ramsay his jacket.

Gordon gives Shaun a sad smile.

"I know bud, I know you've got a passionate heart. You definitely belong in a kitchen, my good man. The cards just weren't in your favor this time. Goodnight, Shaun," Gordon shakes his hand.

"Goodnight, Chef," Shaun responds, before turning back around and waving to everyone. I wave to him as he heads out the door. I didn't really know him all too well, but he was a good partner during the challenge where we had to teach students how to cook. I can sense that we're cutting down on some truly decent chefs now. The competition has just stepped up a notch.

"Ladies and gentlemen, tomorrow will be an elimination day as well, so don't go to bed feeling safe. I want everyone to show me that they're ready to step up and be a leader," Gordon places his palms together, "and speaking of being a leader, the challenge tomorrow morning will grant the winner immunity from elimination at the following dinner service that night. So make sure you bring your A game, right? Blue team, clean the kitchens before you go to bed. Everyone else, good night," Gordon bows his head to his before turning away and heading towards his office.

All of the red team slide out of the booth and head for the dorms. The prospect of being immune to elimination tomorrow is a tantalizing prize. Sure, going out on trips and rewards is always fun, but having a secured spot in Hell's Kitchen- even for just one more night- is truly a prize worth fighting for.


	65. Interview? More like Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our most intense interview yet...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go back and read Chapter 7- Interviews as I've updated it to flow with this chapter better :D

Tuesday, July 9th, 2013

Once we get back to the dorms, we all start to prepare some rice and chicken for a quick meal before bed. While I work on chopping chicken into bite sized pieces for our chicken fried rice dinner, I'm drawn aside by the hawk-eyed woman who directs the interview crew. I find it a bit odd, as she usually sends someone else to call us in for our interviews at the end of each day.

Usually the interviews are a recap of how we thought we'd preformed during challenges and dinner service, but I can sense this time is somehow different.

I follow her into the interview room- a separate room a bit of a ways away from the kitchens with a green screen behind it- and sit down in a chair facing the camera crew. The boom mic operator, the cameraman and of course the predatory brown eyes of the director all watch me as I sit down in the interview chair and try not to appear nervous. The daunting black hole of the camera lens that could so easily give audiences across the globe access to the most intimate details of my life stares at me accusingly.

"Good afternoon, (Y/N)," the director and interviewer woman gives me an unnerving smile. I can recall her name being Janice, but I don't think she'd ever told me that herself. More than likely, I'd heard the cameraman address her and had filed her name away subconsciously.

"Afternoon, Janice," I respond, hoping that my use of her name would bring about some friendly light into her endless chasm of a gaze she keeps locked onto me. Unfortunately, I have no such luck and her eyes remain as soulless and dark as obsidian.

"As you know, this season has been filled with drama, but Bella's pregnancy is one of the most shocking things to have happened in the history of Hell's Kitchen," Janice starts.

Oh Janice, if only you knew what was going on right below your nose...

"First, we wanted to ask what your thoughts are on Bella and her recent developments," she finishes.

I think for a moment.

"Bella started off as a real drama queen, and she still sort of is now. But being with Dave has humbled her, I think. She's started to become a team player," I begin.

"Yes, yes," Janice hurries me along impatiently, "what did you think of her pregnancy announcement?"

I purse my lips. Why is she being so pushy to get me to talk about Bella? I'd better watch my words, or I'll surely end up sounding like I hate her after they get done with editing.

"At first I was worried for her since Dave hadn't been talking to her, but now that they seem to have discussed the situation with each other things are looking up for all of us," I respond carefully.

"Alright, good. Thank you. Our second question, what did you think of family night and the resulting elimination?" Janice asks.

"I wasn't in the kitchens, but I did alright in the dining room. I'm glad we won, but I'm sad to lose Shaun. He was a good man, and a good cook. But there's not really anyone I want to go home now, we're all talented chefs at this point in the competition," I respond honestly.

Now, our last question," Janice almost cuts me off in eagerness as she says this. She leans forward and rests her elbows on her knees with her hands clasped together in front of her, "tell us about your relationship with Chef Ramsay. Why did Tana introduce you to their kids as a friend of them both?"

My heart stops. I didn't consider that the production crew would find something strange about that. Honestly, it didn't seem strange to me at the time but I suppose it would raise some flags.

Janice's lips pull back in an uncomfortably knowing grin.

"In the history of Hell's Kitchen, Tana has never introduced anyone to their family. We don't have record of you having interacted with her either, so how could she be your friend? You wouldn't happen to be cheating, would you?" she asks, the sweetness in her voice giving me sickening chills.

Wait, cheating???

...

My mind goes blank for a second.

...

 _ **OH**_ \- she means in Hell's Kitchen!

I clear my throat, and in a burst of courage, I lock eyes with the hawk-woman.

"I met Chef Ramsay once at a cook book signing years ago. His wife was there visiting with him and having met them was a good motivator to go on Hell's Kitchen in the first place- but Tana was just being kind. We're not all friends," I lie boldly to her face. Hopefully she doesn't try to ask where this happened exactly, because I know I wouldn't have an answer. To try and stave off questions, I continue.

"As far as being friends with Chef Ramsay, you could say I'm one of his star pupils, but you'll also notice that Abel has been doing just as well as I have. If not better. He's never been yelled at either. In fact, I think he's screwed up far fewer things than I have," I finish.

Yes, this was the way to go, I think to myself. Let's talk about Abel. Please don't revert the subject back to the original question...

"Abel has been pretty solid, I agree. Chef Ramsay just seems to," Janice unclasps her hands and then steeples her fingers together, " _like_ you more."

Her eyes bore into mine.

"Regardless of what Chef Ramsay 'seems to feel', you'll notice I get no special treatment. He's just as meticulous in his judging of my food versus everyone else," my steely voice cuts through the air. Janice recoils a bit, sitting up in her chair. Maybe I was a bit too harsh.

"Alright, (Y/N), thank you for your time. Go on and rejoin the others," Janice sits up from her chair and holds a hand out to me. I stand and shake her hand with a nod before exiting the most uncomfortable interview of my entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're now at over 100,000 written words! That's about 400 pages! Hell's Smitten has been continuously updated ever since June 1st and thus far we have 155 kudos, 33 bookmarks, almost 3,000 hits and 43 subscribers (and 5 user subs!!)! Thank you guys all so much. I know the Gordon Ramsay fan club is smaller than most gigantic fandoms like Marvel or Sherlock and the fact you guys vote+comment+follow me for my lil' ole' story really feels amazing. In fact, I started writing this to give myself confidence in writing my own, completely original stories. I feel like my writing has noticeably improved even in such a short time period. All of your collective love for this story has given me more motivation than I thought possible. This is all made possible thanks to your continuing support. Love you guys!


	66. King of the Hill Part 1/3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our latest challenge gets under way!

Wednesday, July 10th, 2013

The next morning, we are woken up by Chef Scott telling us to hurry up, as Chef Ramsay has our next challenge ready for us.

We rush to put on our jackets and head downstairs. An unusual sight greets us as we walk through the kitchens.

Chef Ramsay gives us a welcoming grin from his seat upon a tall, wooden, gold-accented throne. His posture while seated in the chair is laid back, one arm is thrown casually over the left arm of the chair and his other elbow resting on the right arm of the chair, his chin between his thumb and index finger. He's got a golden crown atop his head that gleams as the spotlight above radiates down. It's partially lopsided, which gives off a devil-may-care vibe. We go to stand outside of our kitchens and I can't help but feel reverence as I admire him.

"Good morning, Chefs," he greets us, his voice a bit quieter than normal.

"Morning, Chef!" we respond.

"Excited to hear about today's challenge?" he questions.

"Yes, Chef!" we shout.

"Excellent! Today's challenge is a bit of a spin on the old 'King of the Hill' concept. For starters, we have a beautiful crown here for the winning chef to keep. Secondly, the winner of today's contest will have immunity from elimination, as promised," he trails his eyes across the lineup of chefs before him.

"But there's one more thing I need from today's winner," he sits up in the chair and locks eyes with me.

"I'm having a bit of trouble with my voice today due to how much I had to yell during yesterday's piss poor dinner service. It's not gone but if I have to start yelling then I'm sure it will be. It should be alright by tomorrow, but I need today's winner to help me at dinner service tonight. It's a unique opportunity to work the pass- one that has never been offered so soon in the competition," he finally moves his eyes from mine and I feel myself begin to breathe again, "This means I'll need you to call out tickets, get everyone's times and yes- even yell at people for me if they deserve it. I'll be by your side the whole time, but you'll be the true head of the kitchen. Got it?"

"Yes, Chef!" we respond then look at each other. Each of us have a different emotion written on our faces. 

Red's face has gone red in what I assume to be stage fright. Pietro is giddily elbowing Kalyani, who returns his elbow with a grin. Dave runs his hand through his hair and exhales, seeming a bit nervous. Gina meets my gaze with a shrug as if she's not sure if she really wants to win and have all that responsibility so soon. Bella is hyping herself up, bouncing in place. Taylor looks determinedly at Chef Ramsay, ignoring everyone else. Then there's Abel, who's expression is the same calm mask he's worn every day since he arrived. That expression worries me the most out of everyone else's.

"To make this a bit more interesting, the proteins you'll be using today will be a bit... unusual," Gordon gives a sly grin and turns his head towards the right side of the restaurant. We all follow his lead and turn to look at a black curtain I'd not noticed until now. 

Sous Chef Christina pushes a trolley with four silver-domed platters on it through the curtain. Behind her, Chef Scott follows with a trolley that has three domed platters resting on top. They stop at the center point between Chef Ramsay and the lineup of chefs.

"Who would like to go first?" Gordon asks, opening his palm towards the domes. 

"I'll go first, Chef," Pietro says, stepping forward. He reaches for a domed lid and pulls it up.

"Alligator," Pietro mumbles, then looks concerned as he takes his meat back to the line and sets it behind him.

Gina goes next and takes the lid off the platter nearest to her.

"Rabbit!" she exclaims and smiles before taking it back to the line.

Up next, Dave lifts his lid.

"Emu?" he questions, then looks up at Chef Ramsay, "Is that one of those big birds?"

"Correct, Dave," Gordon nods. 

Dave turns and takes his plate with him, uncertainty etching his features.

I decide to go next. I approach the domed platters and go for the one on the far right. 

When I lift the lid, something that I'd never expected to ever cook with greets me.

"P-python?" I say, then pick up my plate, holding it in front of me as I take a closer look. The meat is light pink, tall but not very wide. It's maybe an inch and a half thick. I have no idea how to cook this at all.

"Ah, python! I was wondering who'd get that one. I bet you've never cooked with a snake before, have you?" Gordon inquires.

"No, Chef. Never. I've never even touched a snake in real life," I respond. 

"It's quite good. Good luck cooking it, (Y/N)," Gordon smiles at me confidently. 

If Gordon isn't worried about it, then I'll try not to be. But eww, who wants to eat a snake?

Abel steps forward after me and lifts his dome. 

"Scottish wild pheasant," he says smoothly, then takes his plate back to the line. That sounded like a fancy person kind of ingredient. Abel probably eats Scottish wild pheasant right after a fox hunt on his father's prize race horse...

Taylor follows up after him and selects her domed platter.

"Kangaroo!" she giggles, then hops a bit as she heads back to the line, eliciting a laugh from most of the lineup chefs and Chef Ramsay.

Kalyani picks her platter next, carefully lifting the dome as if she expects whatever is under it to jump out at her.

"It's yak, chef," she says simply, then shrugs and takes her plate, setting it behind her spot on the lineup.

Bella steps out of line and selects the second to last dome.

"Antelope, what?" she asks no one in particular and doesn't wait for an answer before heading back in line.

Red is last up. She heads right for the last dome and lifts it, squinting in concentration.

"Duck!" she exclaims, then grins widely at Chef Ramsay who returns the grin. She then heads back to the line and waits with everyone else for our final instructions.

"You're welcome to use any other ingredients you like, but your meat should be your centerpiece. You'll have one hour to cook something amazing. Your time starts..." he pauses, "NOW!"


	67. King of the Hill Part 2/3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuation of our exotic meat king of the hill challenge!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I re-wrote the prologue, mind telling me if you like it better now? :D

Wednesday, July 10th, 2013

I take my extremely odd protein into the kitchen and set it down on the countertop, mulling over what I could possibly make out of a snake that would be delicious enough to beat out my competition. Thankfully, I could see Taylor and Bella both staring at their meats, deep in thought. At least I'm not alone on the 'what the heck do I do with this' train. 

As my mind continues to draw a blank, it seems to me that the only way I'll come up with something is if I just let my hands take me where they want to go. The first step is to figure out what snake even tastes like. 

I cut a sliver of the snake meat off and cook it in a pan for just a minute or so. Then, I mentally prepare myself for eating the meat of something I'd otherwise prefer to have nowhere near my throat.

Surprisingly, it's good. Really good. Snake fits somewhere between fish and chicken in taste. The texture is lean and soft, due to an almost non-existent fat content. Then, I am hit with a nutty flavor that is entirely unique. I'd never tasted anything like it before, but it is really interesting. Maybe I have a better chance at winning than I'd originally anticipated.

The meat was given to me in three long strips. Upon weighing, I have about two-thirds of a pound of meat to work with. 

Then, an idea forms in my mind's eye. 

I could braise this meat and make something absolutely delicious.

Without allowing myself any more wasted time, I put a Dutch oven pot on the burner and set it to medium-high. While that's heating up, I season the snake generously with salt and pepper.

Once the pot is hot, I add enough vegetable oil to coat the bottom. 

While the oil heats up, I cut some carrots and celery. Then, I add my snake meat in to the pot. While it's browning, I finish cutting up some onion and mushrooms. 

When the meat is browned on all sides, I take it out and set it aside on a plate and dump my vegetables into the Dutch oven. 

After a few minutes, I try a bite of one of the carrots. Ahh, deliciously soft. 

Now it's time to de-glaze the pan with wine. I take some Merlot red wine and splash it in over my vegetables. The alcohol content in it helps to strip the pot of the flavorful brown bits at the bottom. I cook the wine until the alcohol burns off.

I add my browned snake meat back into the pot and fill it up to halfway with part beef, part chicken stock, and then turn up the heat to a boil.

Usually braising takes anywhere from one and a half  hours to three hours. But considering that the meat I'm cooking with is so thin, I'm hoping that it will cook in time for the challenge. 

I fill a cheesecloth with some aromatics- orange peel, thyme, parsley, and bay leaves- then tie up the cheesecloth with butcher's twine and place it inside the now boiling pot.

Lastly, I cut parchment paper to the diameter of the pot and place it directly over the food before closing the lid on my creation.

"Forty minutes remain, Chefs," Gordon calls out from the head of the kitchen. Since he's keeping a quieter voice, most of the Chefs don't look up or acknowledge him. I'm sure I'd only heard him because I could pick up his voice in a crowd of a thousand people. When you care for someone, you become tuned-in to them. That's how it's always been for me, at least. 

Gordon looks disgruntled at the lack of response from both teams.

"Chef says forty minutes, everyone!" I shout, repeating Chef Ramsay's words and trying to make sure I'm heard in both kitchens.

"Thank you, Chef!" Red cheerily responds to me. 

A few people across both kitchens also yell out 'heard!'

Huh, I didn't expect people to respond, honestly. It was a pleasant feeling. I look back to Gordon who gives me a beaming grin. Stifling the urge to blush, I look down at my covered pot.

Every few minutes I check on the stock levels in the pot, adding more stock when it starts to get low.

I'm in the process of adding more stock to my pot when I feel fingers brush my right side. Before I can look to see who's touching me, I hear Gordon's voice as he leans towards my ear.

"Please let everyone know it'll just be ten more minutes, love," he requests, then squeezes my side before letting go and returning to the head of the kitchens.

"Ten minutes, Chefs!" I dutifully pass on the information Gordon had requested. Once again, a chorus of 'heard' resounds through the air.

Now, it's time to see just how well my grandiose idea of a one-hour braise worked out.

I take a fork and dip it into my pot. The snake meat comes off easily in one motion. I take a bite and find myself involuntarily making an _mm-mmm_ sound. Yep, it definitely worked. 

With a few minutes to go, I pour out the stock and then put my meat and vegetables down on a plate. 

To make it prettier, I get a second plate out and organize my snake meat along the outer edge of the plate, almost like it's constricting the center. I cut the snake meat into bite-sized pieces and then fill the center with my braised carrot, celery, onion and mushroom combination.

Gordon claps from the front, then points to the LCD screen behind him that displays a countdown from two minutes. With my dish already ready to go, I place the silver dome over the top and wait by the front only a few feet to the left of Gordon.

I'm ready to win this challenge.


	68. King of the Hill Part 3/3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The finale of our King of the Hill challenge!

Wednesday, July 10th, 2013

Eventually, all of the other chefs make their way to the pass with their exotic meat plates. Strangely enough, Abel is the last to put his plate up- just a second before Ramsay calls time.

"Are we all prepared to present our dishes?" Gordon asks the lineup of chefs.

"Yes, Chef!" we respond. I can sense there's a bit less confidence in all of our voices. This challenge really threw us all for a loop, it seems.

"Excellent. I'm excited to try all of your unique cuisine ideas," Gordon walks to the table in the center of the room and stands behind it. 

"Might I have Mary step up first, please?" 

Red steps out of line and grabs her domed plate from behind her. Her hands are trembling a bit, but she stays relatively calm as she approaches Chef Ramsay. 

"What have you prepared for me today, Ms. Mary?" Gordon asks, tilting his head.

"Chef, I've made an Autumn duck confit salad. It has endive, arugula, radicchio, grapes, apple, radishes, and walnuts," she passes the dish towards him.

Gordon looks it over.

"The duck leg you've used here does feel like the centerpiece, but the salad is quite cluttered. Let's give it a taste," he takes his fork and gathers some salad and a bit of duck for a bite.

Red averts her eyes as Gordon looks up at her from her dish, almost as if she's afraid of what he might say.

"Mary, it's delicious. I do wish you'd finessed a more intricate dish, but I cannot deny that I enjoyed eating it. Go on and sit," he opens his palm towards the throne.

Red bows her head then heads to the throne, sitting down uneasily. She tentatively raises her head towards the chef lineup, then immediately looks down at her lap. I love Red, but she really needs to be more confident. I know that's a trait Gordon has to see in order to consider her for his head chef. Of course, I don't want tougher competition- but Red is just so sweet, I'd hate for her to not wear a black jacket.

"Next, may I see Dave's dish?" Gordon inquires.

Dave steps from his spot in the chef lineup and takes his domed plate with him. When he reaches Chef Ramsay, he lifts the lid.

"Hey Chef, all I did here was butterfly cut the emu steak, stuff it with Gorgonzola cheese, walnuts and a hint of Madeira wine. Then I sealed it with egg, basted it with flour and cooked it until it turned medium rare."

Gordon nods then looks down at his plate.

"Your presentation is lackluster, Dave. You should have made some side dish or puree to go along with it. Right now, the emu is having to stand on its own in a vast sea of white plate," Gordon says as he cuts into the emu steak and takes a bite.

"It's good, Dave. Well cooked. The stuffing is original and unique. But I just can't let you take the throne with a poorly presented plate. Back in line, please," Gordon waves Dave from the table.

Dave looks angry as he takes his plate back to the lineup. Bella watches him with a concerned look on her face. Huh, I don't think I've ever seen her look concerned about anything. Not even when she was up on the chopping block.

"Pietro next, please?" Gordon curls his finger towards himself.

Pietro steps from line and heads towards Chef Ramsay, his wide frame toddling from side to side.

"What have you made for me, Pietro?" 

Pietro lifts the lid and turns the plate towards Chef.

"I've made alligator nuggets with spicy tartar sauce, Chef," Pietro says as he locks eyes with Ramsay.

"Is the tartar sauce premade?" 

"No Chef, I made it myself," he proudly responds.

Gordon foregoes a fork this time and uses his fingers to grab a gator nugget and dip it into the tartar sauce before eating it.

Pietro leans forward excitedly, waiting for Ramsay's opinion.

"The sauce is delicious. I can tell you made it fresh. Unfortunately, you've overcooked your gator. Alligator is very particular meat that becomes chewy and oily when overcooked. I'm sorry, Pietro. Back in line," Gordon tilts his chin up towards the blue team lineup and Pietro falls back into his spot with a dissatisfied look.

"Gina, step forward please," Gordon requests.

Gina happily takes her plate to Gordon and smiles at Red on her way up. Red shyly waves with her left hand and then drops it limply back down to her side. She's not utilizing the armrests, so she looks like she's squished in the throne with her arms directly beside her.

"What have you made today, my dear?" Ramsay asks, looking down at her plate that she'd pushed towards him.

"Sauteed rabbit with sour cream and bacon!" Gina says cheerily.

"That sounds delicious, Gina," Gordon smiles as he inspects her plate and takes a bite.

"It's as delicious as it sounds, in this case. Marvelous work, Gina. Go on and take the throne," he motions for her to take a seat and Red gratefully hops up and scurries back into line next to me.

"Oh God, I hated being up there. I don't know how Chef Ramsay stands people's eyes on him all the time," she whispers to me as Gina takes her seat.

I don't have time to respond before Gordon calls up the next person.

"Taylor, please step forward would you?" 

Taylor grabs her domed plate and makes her way to the front before setting the plate down and lifting the dome.

"Chef, I made barbecue kangaroo steaks with Mexican style sweet corn. I hope you like it," Taylor says determinedly. 

"It looks lovely. Let's try it, shall we?" 

Gordon cuts into the kangaroo and follows his bite with some corn before wiping his mouth with a napkin to remove errant Parmesan cheese.

"Bloody well done, that. Pairing kangaroo with Mexican style corn is a bold move. It worked out well in this instance. Go on and take Gina's place," Gordon praises her.

Gina hops up from the throne, not too worried about giving it up to another red team member. Taylor beams at me from her seat upon the throne.

"Abel, come present your dish," Gordon requests.

Abel takes his plate firmly and carries it to the front, placing it before Ramsay and lifting the dome.

"I've made pheasant kiev for you, Chef. With a side of salad, topped with hand-made Caesar dressing and grey Poupon mustard mayonnaise for dipping."

" I'm pleased with you having made your dressing, Abel," Gordon says as he cuts into the pheasant and the garlic butter hidden within oozes out, "oh, lovely."

When he finishes his bite, he looks up at Abel.

"I can't believe I'm saying this. Honestly. But you've forgotten to add seasoning. Truly incredibly cooked but so very bland," Chef Ramsay gives Abel a pitying look.

For the first time, I see Abel's shoulders slump.

"Yes, Chef. I realized just as I was plating and I had no time to fix my mistake. I'm sorry, Chef..." Abel's hands unclasp from behind his back. He picks up his plate and silently heads back to the blue team lineup, his face a stony mask.

"Could you join me at the front please, (Y/N)?" Gordon requests, his eyes moving from Abel to me as I hurry to the table with my dish.

"What have you made today, love? I'm excited to see what you did with your python," his eyes sparkle as he waits for me to lift the lid.

I lift the lid and push the plate forward towards Ramsay. He takes the plate and centers it before himself.

"I made braised snake bites with carrot, celery, onion, and mushrooms," I recite my ingredients as Chef meticulously looks over my plate.

"Braised? Normally that takes much longer than an hour," Gordon states, flicking his gaze from the plate to me and then back.

"Indeed, but the meat was thin and lean so I figured I could make it work. I think it came out well," I confidently respond.

Chef Ramsay puts his fork into the snake meat then pulls back. It easily separates from itself, looking juicy and delectable. He eats just the snake meat by itself, then another bite with a few vegetables.

He's silent for a moment, just looking at the plate. When he raises his head to me, he's got a brilliant smile spread across his face.

"Why, this is surely the most delectable snake I've ever eaten. And let me tell you, I've eaten more than you would expect while traveling. I don't think I've ever eaten braised snake, though. This may be my new favorite way to prepare it. Very daring of you to even attempt a braise, really. I wasn't expecting this-but if anyone could elevate snake to the position of the most delicious dish thus far, it'd be you. Please, take a seat," he opens his arm towards the throne and moves my dish over to his right side.

Taylor stands up from the throne and pats me on the back as I go to sit down, exchanging wide grins with me.

The throne is plush and comfortable, but everyone's eyes on me makes me understand Red's uneasiness she mentioned earlier. I try not to make eye contact with anyone- especially not Pietro. 

Would Pietro even believe I truly made a delicious dish, or would he just think Chef Ramsay was doing me favors? I would hate that. No matter what, I do want a fair competition. I want to prove myself as the greatest chef out of the lot of us. 

As much as Gordon has become a centerpiece in my world, I still have always dreamed of being a winner in Hell's Kitchen. I trust that Gordon understands this about me and won't give me any sort of special treatment. He's never given me a single hint about what's to come next or tried to offer me any sort of leniency on my grading. Gordon has always worked to prove himself again and again and never took the easy route. I feel very much the same way- I want to earn my greatness. 

Nevertheless, the comfortable chair starts to become less and less cozy as I feel Pietro's glare burning into me.

I'd been so focused on my thoughts that I'd missed Chef call for Kalyani- she was already in the middle of presenting her dish.

"- made a yak carpaccio with marinated mushrooms and arugula," she stands straight as she waits for Chef Ramsay's verdict.

"Kalyani, it's delicious- but you've only given me three thin slices. Where's the rest? I gave you at least a half-pound of meat to work with, did I not?" he furrows his brow attempting to remember.

Kalyani dips her head a bit. "Yes, Chef. You gave me more. But I burned it trying something a bit too over-complicated. So I made the next best thing I could think of."

Gordon shakes his head sadly. "It is good, Kalyani- but what you've presented is nowhere near a full meal. I'm sorry, but you will not be taking over the throne."

Kalyani takes her plate back and returns to the blue team. I would ordinarily check her expression, but I'm still too nervous to look anywhere near Pietro.

"Last up, Bella! Bring your dish here, please," he directs her to join him.

Bella grabs her plate and heads to the front, shooting me a small smile as she passes by. At this point, no matter who wins, the red team will pull a victory.

"I made a simple antelope burger with a loaded baked potato side and caramelized onions on both," Bella introduces her dish as she lifts the lid.

Gordon looks over the burger, examining it carefully.

"It looks fantastic, Bella. I'll try a bite just now," he picks up the burger and takes a hearty bite, then follows up with a forkful of the baked potato. Once he finishes eating, he sets the fork down and steeples his fingers.

"This has just become incredibly difficult for me," he looks from Bella to me then back at her, "I think this is the best dish you've made yet, Bella. I'm going to need a second taste of both of your dishes to make my decision."

He takes my dish from his right and forks off some more of the meat, tasting it slowly and meticulously. He then takes another bite of Bella's burger and savors the flavor.

After a short while, he looks back up from the plates.

"I've made my decision."

Bella and I both lean forward, her towards him and myself scooting to the edge of the throne.

"Bella, your burger was amazing. Truly delicious and certainly your best work," I begin to slowly sink back in the throne as he says this, fearing the worst, "but braising a snake is one of the boldest, brazen things anyone has ever done in the history of Hell's Kitchen. It turned out impeccably as well. Thus, I have to give the win over to (Y/N) for her ingenuity when faced with something she'd never cooked before. Well done, (Y/N)."

Gordon beams at me and I sit up straight in the throne, returning his smile with a wide one of my own. I've won the first individual challenge in Hell's Kitchen! Not only that, but I FINALLY beat Abel!

"Well done my darling," Gordon says as he walks over to me and places the crown atop my head.

He then holds out his hand, which I take, and pulls me up from the throne. He raises my hand over my head like I'd just won a prizefight. 

"You will be the head chef for today, but let's give some of the other chefs a chance to feel the heat, shall we?" he puts my hand down and nudges my side with his elbow.

"Pick one blue team and one red team member to be your sous chefs for dinner service tonight. Remember, you may be immune from elimination, but the kitchen still needs to run as flawlessly as possible, yeah? So do choose carefully," he steps back from my side and I feel all the other chef's eyes on me once more.

I think it over for a moment. Taylor has been there with me from day one, but Bella just almost beat me out in the competition. I know I'd always felt like it was unfair when the winner didn't share their prize with the runner up when there is an option to.

"I choose Bella for the red team's sous chef," I say confidently. Gordon nods his approval.

"And the blue team sous chef?" he questions.

This one is easy for me.

"Abel, definitely. I know he forgot the seasoning today, but that's the first time he's messed up that I can remember. I trust him to help me keep everyone in line on the blue team," I look over at Abel, whose lips have curled up into the hint of a smile. 

This next dinner service, we should be unstoppable!


	69. A Date with the Chef Part 1/4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chef Ramsay takes us out on a date!

Wednesday, July 10th, 2013

The elation of finally winning a challenge and beating out Abel is muddied only by the thought that Pietro- and potentially Janice- might not see it as a legitimate victory. The thought makes me want to take my snake dish and force them both to try it and see just how delicious and deserving of a win it is. 

Thankfully, all my worries slip away as Gordon offers me his hand. I take it graciously and he helps me up from the chair, letting go of my hand after a second longer than needed.

"I'm proud of you, (Y/N). That was incredibly creative and immensely delicious. I don't think I would have even thought of that cooking method. Wow," a genuine look of amazement flits across his handsome features.

"Thank you, Chef," I exclaim happily, deeply wishing I could leap into his arms in joy for finally proving myself to be one of the top contenders with this challenge win.

"Don't thank me yet," he winks, "you still have to keep these ninnies in line during tonight's dinner service."

"That won't be a problem, Chef. Not with Abel and Bella as my right and left-hand man and woman," I respond assuredly.

My trust in Bella's abilities has only been increasing since she's stopped being so argumentative and started getting along with her teammates. Plus, her being the runner up to my dish was impressive in and of itself. Of course, I could depend on Abel at any point in this competition- unfortunately I usually depended on him to beat me out. It'll be nice to put some faith into him working _for_ me instead of _against_ me tonight.

"The rest of your team will be prepping for dinner service tonight. But you, as the winner, have a different itinerary," Gordon grins.

"Oh?" I say as I reposition the crown on my head, "I thought that being the head chef for a day was enough of a prize!"

It honestly did feel like getting head chef experience earlier than everyone else was better than any other prize, but missing out on prep for something else he has in mind isn't something I'd ever say no to.

"What would you say to having a private lunch with me on the beach as we discuss the duties you'll be taking on as today's head chef?" he asks, his eyes twinkling. 

I beam up at him, "That sounds amazing. Thank you, Chef."

A private lunch? Does that mean no cameras? I can't ask him without raising eyebrows, but it sounds like it could very well be the case. I'm already excited, but now I'm so giddy I'm seriously considering putting more space between Gordon and me so I don't start hugging his side and bouncing up and down in glee.

"Go on and get changed into something comfortable, yeah? Meet me outside Hell's Kitchen in fifteen minutes," he directs me.

I nod then turn to head towards the stairs that will take me back to the dorms. As I'm about to begin walking, Abel steps forward.

"(Y/N)?" he catches my attention. It strikes me that he'd only said my name one other time before this point.

"Yes, Abel?" I question, turning towards the slender blond.

Gordon turns to the other chefs and I can hear him giving them prep instructions while Abel approaches me. He probably assumes Abel doesn't need to hear the instructions, and I have a feeling he's correct. 

"I know we haven't talked much through this competition, and the one time you tried to talk to me I blew you off. I'm sorry. I wanted to thank you for choosing me as your sous chef," he smiles, "I always love a chance to prove myself. Plus, it will be interesting working under you. You won't regret your decision. Not tonight, at least," his smile turns to a wry grin that reaches his light blue eyes. This is the first time he's looked directly at me for so long. I can make out a golden sunburst just surrounding his pupils. If Gordon hadn't claimed all my butterflies, I'm sure they would have been fluttering at this moment.

"Of course, Abel. It's about dang time I beat you at something!" I say jokingly but also honestly, "I'll try not to work you too hard in the kitchens, but I'm depending on you to keep the blue team in line."

"You can always put your faith in me," Abel states simply, his voice smooth and assured. He then turns to re-join the blue kitchen, leaving me to consider his words.

Later on I may indeed regret having chosen such a proficient chef as my sous chef. Choosing him means giving him an opportunity to shine in a leadership position. But for now, I'm thankful to have such a strong chef by my side.

I have to head past the blue team to get through the kitchens. My efforts to ignore Pietro kick into high gear. I feel his scalding gaze burn my face as I bow my head to move past him. My nerves tangle up as I wait for him to say something when I move through the blue team, but he doesn't. Thank God for small miracles.

I head through the kitchens and ascend the staircase. In the dorms, I put my crown next to the lamp on my dresser drawer. I pull out the drawer and look inside for something to wear to the beach. It's unlikely we'll be getting in the water, so something light will do.

As I'm rummaging through the clothes, I hit my hand on a smooth and flat black leather box.

My breath catches as I furtively lift the box into my lap, hiding it from the dorm cameras with a few different shirts. 

Slowly, I lift the lid of the box and peer inside.

A strikingly beautiful necklace lays in a bed of black velvet. The chain is thin gold, with a ruby embedded in a setting that is encrusted in what appear to be diamonds. It must have cost thousands of dollars, at least. My eyes finally break from the enchanting jewelry to a small note card nestled in the black velvet folds.

The elegant handwriting spells out a heartwarming message- 

'For my beautiful girlfriend  
Thank you for turning Hell into Heaven   
Love, Gordon'

I feel tears begin to prick at the corners of my eyes. No one had ever given me a love note, much less one as thoughtful as this. How long had this necklace been here, anyway? I don't often go rifling through my clothes since all we need to wear normally is the chef jacket and a white undershirt. 

I take the shirt I'd been hiding the necklace in and roll it over to completely cover the box. I grab a pair of dark pink shorts and carry the bundle of clothes into the bathroom, closing the door behind me and wiping away budding tears.

Clasping necklaces are always trouble, but this one thankfully snapped together after four minutes of fiddling around with it. Once the necklace is on, I put on the slim-fitting white v-necked t-shirt and my shorts. 

The brilliant ruby is just visible in the cleft of my cleavage. It glows as if it holds an ember of fire within itself. I'm sure people would notice and start asking questions about it- things like where did I get that from, why wasn't I wearing it until now if I'd always had it, how did I afford something so glamorous while on a line cook salary...

Thinking quickly, I turn the necklace around so the pendant is resting on my back instead of nestled between my breasts. The gold chain is so fine it's nearly invisible. Plus, even if someone does see it, it isn't as unbelievable that I might've been wearing it up until now and they'd just not noticed. 

When I'm with Gordon on our date- _ahem_ , I mean, private meeting to discuss head chef duties- I'll turn it to back to my chest so he can see how beautiful it looks on me. I'll only have to remember to flip it back behind me again before we get back to Hell's Kitchen.

For a second, I consider if I should take the microphone that's pinned to the inside of my chef's jacket and pin it on my t-shirt. Since Gordon said it is a private lunch, I decide against it. I'd rather be in trouble for not bringing my mic than have to watch what I say to Chef Ramsay.

I wrap the necklace box containing my love note in my old clothes and chef's jacket then place the bundle in my top dresser drawer. One good thing about cameras is that I don't have to worry about people rummaging through my stuff. It was made very clear that anyone who touches another person's possessions is automatically disqualified.

All dressed and ready to go, I hurry down the stairs hoping I didn't keep Gordon waiting too long. I head for the doors of Hell's Kitchen and step out onto the red carpet leading up to the entrance.

Ahead of me, Gordon sits in the most beautiful car I'd ever seen. It's definitely a Ferrari, that much I know for sure. I'm not the biggest car aficionado, but anyone with eyes to see and a mouth to drool knows what a Ferrari looks like. 

Gordon is looking dapper in a tan button up shirt and blue jeans with sunglasses sitting atop his head.

"Come, darling, the helicopter can't wait forever!" he pats the passenger seat of the car. Wait, helicopter? What sort of beach are we going to?

Gordon leans over and opens the passenger side door as I step down the front steps. I scoot into the tan leather seat of the striking white convertible and try to keep my mouth from hanging open. Never in my life did I think I'd be riding in a car as beautiful as this.

"I can tell you like the car," Gordon says cheekily as he puts on his sunglasses, "I do too. It's a Ferrari 458 Italia. I own quite a few Ferraris- but this one is special to me."

"Why?" I ask, running my hands across the slick interior as Gordon revs the engine and pulls away from Hell's Kitchen. Before I forget, I turn the necklace around to the front, the beautiful ruby nestles between my breasts. As the restaurant disappears over the horizon, he looks over at me.

"Because I drove this car when I took my amazing girlfriend on a date to the beach," he beams and reaches his hand over the center console to twine his fingers with mine.

My face immediately reddens, both from excitement and nervousness.

"Are you sure you should hold my hand, Gordon? I mean, it is a convertible top. We're driving in the flashiest kind of car there is and the roads aren't empty..." I say worriedly.

Gordon pouts.

"I suppose you're right. I just can't help myself sometimes," he hesitantly removes his hand from mine with a sigh, "I can't wait until we don't have to hide anymore."

"Well, Janice and Pietro both have it out for me, so our secret might not stay hidden for long. Especially after I won today's challenge," I gulp down some air anxiously.

He frowns. 

"You won that challenge fairly. Anyone watching the footage will see that's true. You turned the most difficult and hard to work with exotic protein into a delectable dish," he turns to me and then back to the road, "I love you, but I will not give you any leniency- at least not in the kitchen. You have fantastic potential that I can see you realizing here in Hell's Kitchen. I'm going to be sure you reach that potential- and surpass it."

I nod, happy he feels the same way I do. I never want him to go easy on me. Not for my work in the kitchen, at least.

"I love you too, Gordon. Thank you for understanding I want to earn this myself," I have to stop myself from reaching over and hugging him. 

"Thank you for the necklace, too, by the way. I've never had anything quite so beautiful," I rack my brain, "Actually, I think this is the first piece of jewelry that belongs to me and wasn't handed down when my mother died."

"It reminded me of you. Gorgeous. A self-contained fire of life. I'm glad you like it," I can see his eyes crinkle with a smile past his dark shades.

We pull up to a red light and a green minivan pulls up to our right. The driver, a middle aged woman, peers over at us and gasps. She rolls down the window and shouts, "Gordon! Gordon Ramsay! Gordon! Mr. Ramsay! Yoohoo!"

She flails her arm frantically out the window, the flab hanging from her arm flaps back and forth with her dramatic movements. Gordon chuckles.

"Hello, Miss!" he waves back. She grabs her smartphone and starts taking pictures.

I turn away, hiding my face from the camera. 

"MOM, STOP!" a boy's voice shouts from the inside of the van, "You're SO embarrassing!!"

The woman sheepishly withdraws back into the vehicle and tries to focus on the light, but I can see her peering back at Gordon every few seconds.

"How do you deal with people like that?" I ask exasperatedly.

"You get used to it, love. You'll see how it is soon enough. It never stops, not for a second. I could spend my life signing autographs and not finish before I die of old age," he chuckles as the light changes to green and we pull into the on-ramp for the highway.

We turn onto the highway and Gordon peers over at me.

"Are you afraid of speed?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Heights, yes. Speed, no," I affirm.

Gordon doesn't respond but instead floors it. The Ferrari picks up speed lightning-fast and I find myself shooting my hand over to grab his upper leg. A huge grin spreads across his face.

I'll be so pissed if I die in a car accident before my day at the beach! But I cannot deny the adrenaline rush of flying past all the other cars is nothing short of exhilarating.

A light on the Ferrari's dashboard flashes and he slows down just before a cop car sitting in the median between the two flows of traffic passes by on our left.

"That was a close one!" I shout over the sound of the wind.

"No point in buying a Ferrari if you can't have a little fun once in a while!" he exclaims, then taps the dashboard, "That's why I have a cop detector installed. Quite nice, eh?" 

I nod, but Gordon is too busy watching the road. 

Eventually, we make it to an off-ramp. He pulls off the highway and takes us to an open field, parking his Ferrari in a nearby lot and leaving his sunglasses in the console.

In the field, a bright red helicopter awaits, the blades already whirring. 

Gordon and I walk towards the helicopter. Some dirt and grass is picked up by the vortex created by the blades, obscuring my vision.

He lifts me by the waist into the helicopter then pulls himself in and hands me a bulky headset before donning his own.

"Just on time, Gordon!" the pilot's cheery voice crackles through the headset.

"We had to cut a few corners, but we made it just when I'd promised!" Gordon responds.

"Where are we going?" I ask, not really directing the question at either of them.

"Why, you're headed to Catalina Island! A beautiful private beach, to be exact. Lucky girl!" the pilot replies as the helicopter begins to lift off.

This pilot has no clue how lucky I am.


	70. A Date with the Chef Part 2/4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our date continues!

Wednesday, July 10th, 2013

I'd never been in a helicopter before this point and I was extremely worried about how I'd feel being suspended in the air in a flying death trap. But it wasn't nearly as bad as I'd convinced myself it would be. Maybe it is just the fact that my side is pressed up against Gordon that makes me feel more at ease, but I start to enjoy watching the toothpick sized trees flit past from our incredible vantage point.

"How long until we get there?" I wonder aloud.

"The whole flight is only about fifteen minutes. As soon as we hit the ocean it'll just be ten minutes left. Looks like we're almost there, speak of the devil!" the pilot says as we pass over a sandy beach that leads into the vast expanse of the ocean.

I feel like I should be even more afraid as the helicopter meanders over the open ocean, but Gordon seems entirely at peace. It occurs to me that Gordon has probably been on more flights than the majority of the human population at this point. His calm washes over me and I'm able to enjoy the rest of the flight.

The helicopter begins to descend as Catalina island's beautiful beach comes into view. It lands in a clearing amidst the trees, devoid of buildings or other signs of human life. 

Gordon removes his headset and sets it down on the seat before hopping off onto the ground. I follow suit and Gordon helps me off the helicopter. Though I could have made the leap down myself, any excuse to be in his arms is an excuse I'll take. 

Some twigs crunch underfoot as he sets me down. I'm thankful that the helicopter blades have stopped spinning so that these twigs didn't become projectiles hurling towards my face. 

Gordon opens a hatch on the side of the helicopter and pulls out a picnic basket. The image of him holding a basket is so adorable, I can't help but smile.

"Did you enjoy your first helicopter ride?" Gordon asks, walking towards a break between the trees of the clearing with the basket swinging beside him.

"You know, even being afraid of heights it wasn't that bad. Being with you definitely helped," A small blush rises to my face as I trail after him, "You make me feel safe." 

He wordlessly reaches out and grabs my free hand in his as we walk along the path.

Once we're far enough onto the path that we can't see the helicopter anymore, Gordon releases my hand and turns on his heel to face me. His expression is more serious than I'd seen him, even when he was railing into the chefs for deadly fuck ups. 

He sets the picnic basket on the ground and steps towards me. In one motion, he takes my cheeks between his palms and turns my head up towards him. The sunlight filtering through the trees is blocked by his frame towering over me.

"You know I'll always protect you, right? I won't let anything bad happen to you. Of course, you'll have to face more emotional rather than physical hurdles- but I'll be there by your side the whole time. You'll never be alone in this, love," his sincerity pulls my heart towards him. I step forward and wrap my arms around his torso. He releases my face and wraps his arms around my upper body tightly, holding me close to him. My head rests against his chest and I can feel the strong, steady beat of his heart reassure me that he's telling the truth.

After a long moment that feels like no time at all, Gordon releases me and picks up the basket again. He takes my hand in his and pulls me towards the end of the tree line. The ground begins to shift from dirt into sand beneath us. Somewhere in the distance, I hear the helicopter start up.

"They're leaving without us?" I question, to which Gordon laughs.

"Yes, dear. He has more appointments to deal with than just us. We'll be here a while," he says as he steps over a log and past the last of the trees.

Outside of the forest, my eyes have to adjust to the sunlight glaring off the pristine white sandy beach. There are no other people aside from us as far as I can see down either side. Halfway towards the water, there's a beautiful setup of seating for two. A small round table sits with a white tablecloth elegantly blowing in the calm ocean breeze. Two white cushioned chairs sit across from each other. The table is already set with silver cutlery and two porcelain white plates. The ocean waves are calm and steady as they brush gently across the beach.

"It's amazing..." I say breathlessly as I try to take the whole scene in.

The most amazing part, however, is the handsome man who pulls one of the cushioned chairs out for me to sit. I take my seat and Gordon sits down across from me with a brilliant grin.

I'm out on a date at a private beach with Gordon Ramsay. That simple fact makes me want to pinch myself to check if I'm dreaming. I decide not to, just in case I am. It's worth not waking up to experience this.

"You know, you really were incredible during today's challenge," Gordon starts as he reaches into the picnic basket and pulls out a bottle of white wine. I don't have to see the label to know it's expensive. Gordon never goes cheap on anything- which reminds me about my gorgeous necklace! I grab the chain and turn it so the gem is nestled between my cleavage. Gordon's eyes lock on to it. Well, it or my breasts. 

"Thank you, Chef- uh, I mean, Gordon- sorry..." I apologize shyly. It's hard to not call him Chef when we talk about food!

"It's quite alright, (Y/N). That necklace looks ravishing on you by the way, darling," he flirts, his eyes dropping to my chest again.

I wrestle with two urges simultaneously- one to cover up and blush and the other to strip down for him. I end up doing neither, instead choosing to heat up like a tea kettle as he rakes his eyes over me.

"I love how I get you all flustered," he teases as he reaches into the picnic basket and pulls out a container. He opens it and begins to serve each of us two empanadas. 

"I would have made the food myself had I known for sure I'd be out here with you," he laments, "with the uncertainty of each contest, making adjustments for you is a bit tricky. I did manage to get this to be a private lunch rather than one that was filmed with a bullshit excuse. The pilot and I are friends, so I know he'll cover for me."

I nod, impressed by how clever Gordon can be on such short notice. The amount of times he's worked around the limitations of cameras and microphones for us is nothing short of miraculous.

Eventually, he's loaded our plates down with a delectable meal. Alongside the empanadas there are also Chinese steamed pork buns, sausage and arugula pasta salad and even some fresh baked chocolate chip cookies. 

"This looks delicious, thank you Gordon!" I squeak happily. 

Gordon raises his glass of wine to me. "To us."

I raise my glass and clink the rim of mine to his. "To us," I agree.

As we eat, it occurs to me that I have one of the very first opportunities to ask Gordon anything I might have on my mind without being rushed.

"Gordon?" 

" _Hmm?_ " he hums before swallowing, "yes, dear?"

The first question I think to ask flies out of my lips before I can stop it.

"Do you want any more children?"

I swiftly cover my mouth with my napkin as if I'm trying to stop any more questions from spilling forth.

He smiles at me coolly.

"Why? Do you want to have children with me?" he asks all too bluntly.

I cover my face with the napkin and mumble incoherently. Gordon laughs and I peek out from behind my protective napkin fortress.

"To answer your question, I always want children. The more the merrier. But I'm not always home to spend time with them. And you couldn't travel with me if you were raising a little one," he responds, assuming my answer to his previous question correctly.

"I- I was just-" I start, finally putting the napkin down.

"I know you couldn't have been too terribly against it or you would have been much more upset with how I've been," he pauses and gives me a cocky grin before continuing, "filling you up, as it were."

Oh God, I shouldn't have asked this right now. My skin color is going to turn permanently red at this rate. 

"But you also know it's very unlikely to happen without medical intervention. I'm not sure how IVF would work for a married man and his girlfriend, legally," he muses as if he's considering what to order off of a lunch menu.

"Forget it, forget I said anything," I struggle to try and turn the conversation away from embarrassing territory.

"Oh, no. There's no way I could forget my beautiful girlfriend asking me about carrying my child. I'll remember this forever, you can be sure of that," he winks.

I squirm in my seat uncomfortably as a second question stirs from my mind.

"If this comes out, is it going to ruin your Chef career?" 

"This as in us?" he ponders for a moment, "To be honest, I don't think it will. It should enhance my career, actually. Both of ours. Like a wise man once said, any publicity is good publicity. When people stop talking about you is when you have to worry as a celebrity. I mean, Kim Kardashian got famous off of a sex tape. At least we'll be famous for falling in love."

He does have a point. Plus, as long as Tana shows that she's not upset, people's outrage should fizzle out. Especially after they see how happy we are together. 

"I know Tana gave you permission for..." I sweep my hand around, "all of this, but..."

"Is she going to be alright with you joining our family?" he finishes my sentence for me.

"Y-yeah. That..." I affirm weakly.

Gordon reaches over the table and takes my hand in his.

"My family has always been accepting of things outside of the norm. Tana and I have both introduced her boyfriend to the children for when he'd come to visit. In order to keep them comfortable, she never acted as a couple with him until the kids got more used to his presence. Now, they'll even ask when he's coming to visit next," he strokes my fingers with his thumb, "but in your case, well, you'll be needing a place to stay. My home is more than accommodating. I'm sure our secret will be out by then, so it only makes sense that you'd come home with me, yeah?"

I nervously laugh. 

"Everything is so crazy, Gordon. I used to be struggling to pay my rent, working at a job where I wasn't respected and alone in the world. Now it's all going to change..."

"Of course it'll change. You won't ever struggle for money again, for one. Even if you don't win Hell's Kitchen, I'll get you a work visa to work in any restaurant of mine that you want. Or you can just come with me as I travel the world. Everyone better respect you, or they'll have me to answer to. Hell, you won't even have to work unless you want to," he finishes.

I sit up in my seat and lock eyes with his gorgeous pools of blue.

"I definitely want to work. But I want to travel with you, if I could. I know Tana likes staying at home, but I'd miss you too much. I've had to be alone for too long since losing my parents. Now that I have you, I don't ever want to let go," I nod as I finish my sentence.

The raw emotion on Gordon's face is easy to read. He stands up from his chair and comes over to my side. He wraps his arms around and under me, lifting me from the chair in one smooth movement.

I giggle and curl my arm around his neck, leaning my head against his shoulder as he carries me through the sand.

"I don't ever want to let you go either, (Y/N)," he says as he leans in to kiss me. I kiss him back and use my hand that isn't wrapped around him to hold his cheek. 

Once he breaks the kiss, he sets me down gently on my feet.

"Would you like to swim with me?"

I look down at my outfit.

"I didn't think we'd be swimming, I didn't bring my swim suit," I frown.

A slow smile spreads across his face.

"I didn't bring mine either."


	71. (*)A Date with the Chef Part 3/4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's gettin' steamy folks ;)

Wednesday, July 10th, 2013

Gordon unbuttons his shirt and throws it over the back of his chair. I take a moment to admire him- his shoulders are as wide as his chest is broad. He's not 'ripped', but his muscles are undeniable. Not to mention how strong he is to be lifting me up as effortlessly as he does.

I lift my shirt and pull it over my head, tossing it into a pile on my chair. Gordon helps me to unclasp my necklace and places it on the top of my clothes. After a short while, both of us are standing stark naked across from each other, grinning like fools. The ocean breeze is cool on my bare skin while the sun keeps me warm and the sand between my toes is pleasantly soft.

Ordinarily, I would have been embarrassed to be standing naked on a beach, but with Gordon, I feel so safe and calm that it doesn't bother me at all. 

"I don't think I'll ever get used to how absolutely gorgeous you are, (Y/N)," Gordon says as he openly admires my naked body.

"And I don't think I'll ever get used to the fact that Gordon Ramsay fell in love with me," I respond dreamily.

"If you could see you how I see you, you'd understand why I did."

My heart flutters. It goes in to overdrive when Gordon takes my hand in his.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Let's go!" I cheerfully shout as I begin running towards the water. Gordon keeps pace with me and we both splash into the ocean together.

The water is warm and the waves are nearly nonexistent, making it an easy journey into the deeper parts of the ocean. Once we're waist-deep, Gordon pulls me into his arms.

I happily wrap my arms around him and look up at his beaming smile. 

"I don't ever want to have to go back to Hell's Kitchen. Can we just stay here?"  I pout playfully, running my fingers down his back.

"How I wish I could say yes, but I didn't pack enough food for a lifetime," Gordon laments, his eyes sparkling.

"Then we better make the most of our ti-"

He leans down and captures my lips in his, kissing me with fervor and preventing me from completing my sentence. My nails dig into his back as I return the kiss. The ocean waves brush against my side softly and small fish dance around my legs, their tiny bodies occasionally bumping into me.

Gordon pours his love into his kiss, fueling the passionate fire in my heart. 

Suddenly, he lifts me into the air, breaking our kiss. I open my eyes just soon enough to see the mischievous glint in his eyes before he tosses me backward into the water. 

I land with a hearty splash, just managing to keep my head from dunking under. I sit up on my knees in the sand. Gordon laughs then sinks into the water and swims towards me. I give him an annoyed yet still gleeful look as he arrives inches from my face. 

"What'd you do that for?" I huff, trying to keep up the charade of being mad.

He presses his nose to mine. "Because you look cute when you're annoyed, pet," he purrs.

I splash some water at the side of his face, catching him by surprise. He laughs even harder before his expression quickly shifts from joking to feisty. He swims towards me and wraps one arm behind my back under the water. The waves lap gently at our necks as he pulls me to his chest.

He trails his hand down my stomach and stops just above my entrance. My breath catches in my throat as I anticipate his next move, but he never takes it. He just gives me a lopsided grin and taps his fingers maddeningly in place.

"Stop looking cute and take me already," I growl, my eyebrows pinching together. 

"Yes ma'am," he obliges, inserting two fingers. I hiss through my teeth as the sensation of being touched trails all through my body. 

He plays with my body under the water, driving his fingers deeper into me. I wrap my legs around his waist and reach down with one hand to take hold of his stiff cock. I stroke it slowly, the water providing resistance against my movements. 

His lips part sensually as I stroke. Using my other hand, I pull his head into me and lock my lips onto his. His lips are soft and he tastes just a bit salty from where I'd splashed him earlier. 

After a short while, the anticipation becomes nearly unbearable. I angle him towards my entrance and he moves his fingers out of the way. Slowly but surely, I grind on the head of his cock, mercilessly teasing him. His breath comes out in short pants. 

"Now look who's begging for me to go further," I taunt. 

His eyes flash open and he gives me a deep, brooding look. My taunt tapers off weakly as I'm sucked into his powerful gaze. 

Without a word, he takes my hips and pulls me down onto him, enveloping him fully. My eyes nearly roll back into my head as pleasure courses through me. 

I keep hold of his broad shoulders as he easily lifts me and pulls me back down onto him. The water makes me feel weightless as his thickness moves against my inner walls. 

My lower lip begins to tremble. Every time he pushes himself into me it feels like he's just a bit deeper than before.

"(Y/N)?" 

I somehow manage to open my eyes partially.

"Y-yes?" I sputter.

He slows down, pushing his cock deep into me and holding me there as I whimper.

"Tell me why you asked me if I wanted more children."

My eyes fly open. My breathing stops completely. All that I can perceive are his piercing eyes and the complete fullness of him inside of me.

When I don't say anything, he somehow manages to bury himself even deeper. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as my body tries to make space for him. I feel my teeth dig into my lower lip.

"Tell me. Be honest," he whispers.

I hesitate, trying to give myself a moment to think. But it's futile. I already know the answer. I want his baby. 

I release my lower lip and my eyes bore into his.

"B-because..." I shakily suck in a breath between my gritted teeth, "because I can't stop thinking about having your baby," I confess as confidently as I can muster, though my voice trembles due to the sensations his cock is sending through my body. 

Instantly he thrusts into me with intense passion- it's all I can do to hold on and keep myself from screaming in ecstasy. He grunts as he pounds me into a submissive puddle. I lose my grip on his shoulders and instead lace my fingers through his shining blond hair. The rare moments I manage to open my eyes, his vivid blue ones are drinking me in. A profound desire to be utterly under his control seizes me.

Eventually, the sensations become unbearable. My body shudders as the tension he'd worked up in me all releases in one mind-blowing orgasm. I squeeze him so hard that he grimaces before exhaling sharply. Then I can feel his cum as well- the warmth fills me and my entire body tingles.

Exhausted, he and I both let go and float on our backs across from each other.

"Well, that was, uhm," I start as I stare up at the endless expanse of blue sky.

"Hot as fuck?" he attempts to finish my sentence with a drained smile on his face and his eyes closed as he leans his head back into the water.

I blush deeply. "Yes, that."

"Did you mean what you said?" he says, cracking open his eyelids to peer at me.

My body aches pleasantly. Though the water has washed most of him out from me, I can still remember the euphoria of the moment he came. 

"Yeah... yeah, I did. It almost scares me how much I meant it..."

Gordon gives me a concerned look before he swims towards me, kneeling at my side.

"Why would it scare you, love?"

I join him in kneeling and sigh.

"Because I never even knew I wanted kids in the first place. Now that I met you, I can't get the thought out of my head. It's so foreign to me to desire to have a child. I'd never even considered it before. Plus, it's not like our situation has a guide book. Is it even a good idea to impregnate your girlfriend before we know that the world is going to accept us being together?" I respond honestly. 

He chuckles. "Baby, it's not going to happen. Not for a while, at least. As I said, it took thousands of attempts before Tana and I had a child naturally. We'll surely know how our outlook will be before we bring our little one into the world," he says sincerely. The genuine way he said 'our little one' makes my heart do a backflip.

"Now let's get dressed before the helicopter comes back and catches us naked," he winks, grinning. He stands up from the water and offers me his hand.

I take it and he pulls me up. We walk hand in hand to the beach.

"We don't have a towel, do we?" I groan.

"No, but there is a table cloth?" he motions to the table cloth blowing in the breeze, "We're supposed to pack up everything but the chairs and table before we go, anyway."

I shrug. Better to dry with a table cloth than to come back to Hell's Kitchen with a see-through t-shirt. 

Gordon and I clear off the plates and food, then he yanks the tablecloth off the table and hands it to me. I dry myself off as best as I can. After I finish, I toss the tablecloth to Gordon, who dries himself off.

While he's doing that, I don the rest of my clothes and hold on to the necklace until he finishes. When he's done, he clasps the necklace for me then gets dressed.

Once we're all dressed- aside from a few messy strands of hair- we look entirely unassuming. 

We set off towards the landing site, I carry the table cloth and he carries the picnic basket while our free hands lock together. The distinct sound of a helicopter landing sounds off just a bit further in the distance. 

Gordon stops and pulls my hand so that I turn back towards him.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he professes, then leans down to kiss me. I return the kiss with my heart beating a mile a minute.

"I love you too, Gordon."


	72. A Date with the Chef Part 4/4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion to our date with the chef ;-; I don't want it to end!

Wednesday, July 10th, 2013

We emerge from the secluded path into the clearing where our helicopter is waiting for us. The pilot has thankfully left the rotor blades off, so I don't have to worry about sticks flying at my face.

We stow our basket and tablecloth in the hatch on the side.

Gordon helps me in then slides in next to me. 

"Did you two have a good time?" the pilot's voice crackles in over the headset.

"It was absolutely amazing, Travis, thank you for taking us," Gordon responds.

"Not a problem boss!" Travis's happily responds as the helicopter begins to lift from the ground.

I'm much more excited about being in the sky than I was on the way over. I don't know if I'm starting to get used to it or if I'm already so elated that nothing can get me down, but either way the flight back to the mainland is wonderful. 

"Are you excited for dinner service tonight?" Gordon asks over the comms, turning to look at me with a grin.

"Oh yes! I can't wait for the opportunity to lead the brigade."

"I'm sorry we ran short on time to discuss your duties, but if you have any questions now might be the time to ask."

I ponder for a moment.

"Can you just give me a general overview of what you think is most important to know, Chef?" I ask, tilting my head.

"Let's see. There are the basics- like calling out tickets, making sure everyone is working, keeping up with the times and plating. Then there's the more in-depth aspect of the job where you have to provide instruction when you see a chef struggling, catch minor and major mistakes and even talk to the  customers should they approach the kitchens."

I make a mental checklist. None of these things sound too particularly difficult, but I'm thankful that I'll have Gordon there to guide me. Hopefully, I will perform perfectly and impress him but this is a huge step up from what I'm used to and I'm bound to make a mistake at some point during service.

"It's crazy how you can run two separate kitchens so well. One kitchen is already tough, but two doubles the work," I say, admiration lacing my words.

He nudges my side with his elbow.

"You'll be the first contestant in Hell's Kitchen history to run both the red and blue kitchen simultaneously. Not many chefs run two kitchens at once ever in their lives- you're very much correct about it being difficult. Not even I can do it perfectly, every once in awhile a raw steak slips past or I accidentally add a sauce that the customer requested to be removed. Don't be too hard on yourself for your first time, yeah?" his eyes twinkle as he smiles at me.

"I'll try not to be, Chef," I affirm, proud that he's trusting me with such an important role.

The helicopter eventually lands in a field, the jolt of touching the ground sends nerves shooting up my body. I handled the flight well, but any sort of bump will never stop being terrifying. Gordon's beautiful Ferrari glints in the receding sunlight far off in the distance.

Gordon hops down after removing his headset and opens his arms to help me down. I place my headset in the chair and Gordon wraps his hands around my waist, lifting me like I weigh nothing and setting me on the ground. Our pilot waves to us from the cockpit and we both wave back before heading through the field towards his car.

Once we're close, Gordon stops just in front of the car. I stop and stand alongside him, wondering what he's thinking.

"Would you like to drive?" he asks after a moment.

"M-Me? Drive this? A Ferrari? No, I don't think so. If I crash it, I couldn't possibly ever forgive myself," I sputter.

He wraps his arm around my waist. I quickly glance around to see if anyone is watching. The helicopter is resting far away in the open field and there's no one else in the barren parking lot, but my heart still jitters anxiously. 

"Come on baby, I know you want to," he purrs.

"Of course I want to! But sitting in your Ferrari is as far as I'll go, please, I just don't feel comfortable with such an expensive car under my responsibility," I pout.

He sighs. 

"Fine, but I'll have to get you your own car, then you'll have no excuse but to drive it. What kind would you like? A Porsche? Ferrari like this one? Maybe a Lamborghini with butterfly doors? A Bentley? You can have two, one for the US and the other for the UK, so be thinking on it yeah?" he grins.

I gape, my mouth hangs open but no words come out. Gordon is offering to buy me not one, but TWO supercars. 

"I don't think I'd ever feel right asking for anything more than a used Toyota, to be honest..."

Gordon scoffs.

"You think I'd let my girlfriend- my gorgeous, effervescent girlfriend- drive a clunky old Toyota? What would the world think of me driving around in my beautiful cars as you get around in a beater? I won't have it. Think about what kind of cars you want, I'll have them waiting for you when the competition is over."

I can sense I'm not going to manage to talk Gordon out of this. He squeezes my side then opens the passenger door for me. I slide in and look up at him. He grins then leans down, kissing me quickly before he walks over and sits in the driver's seat.

"Last chance, babe?" he glances over at me.

"No, not this time Gordon, what if someone sees me driving it when we get back to Hell's Kitchen? I'm sure you've never let anyone else drive your cars before."

He shrugs before pulling his sunglasses from the console.

"Suit yourself, but you better have two cars picked out for yourself by this weekend so I can have them ordered and ready on time for the competition's end."

With that, he pulls the Ferrari out of the parking lot and takes off back towards the highway. 

His cop sensor light flashes much more frequently on the trip back. He groans loudly.

"These cops are no fun," he pauses, "Did you know I was once pulled over for a brake light issue without my wallet? The cop didn't know who I was and was about to arrest me."

I shake my head, "No, I didn't know that! What happened?"

"Three women stumbled out of a nearby bar and started shouting, 'We love you Gordon!' at me. The cop was very, very confused. The women explained to him who I was and the cop got a real kick out of it. Thank goodness for my fans," he chuckles.

Jealousy stirs in the pit of my stomach. I know those women meant nothing to him, but still, the sheer amount of women throwing themselves at Gordon isn't exactly comfortable. I feel hypocritical as fuck for even letting it get to me considering Tana is sharing her husband's most intimate feelings with me. 

"I don't know if I should ask this, but did you ever try to work out a relationship with anyone else besides me?" I ask, my voice wavering.

Gordon shakes his head.

"Here and there I might have considered it, but those women were all after an image of me that wasn't truly who I am. Funnily enough, they weren't interested in anything but money, my lifestyle, my connections and or fucking. Some even thought they could steal me away from my wife," he drums his fingers on the steering wheel before shooting me a smile, "You're the first person who wanted to know me and wasn't trying to bolster themselves by doing so. I could tell you see me as a person rather than a celebrity. Not that being a celeb is bad as it does provide my family and me a highly luxurious lifestyle, but for a romantic relationship I wanted someone more than a doe-eyed trophy piece," he shrugs slightly before turning his eyes back to the road ahead.

My stomach flips, the jealousy fades and is replaced by happy jitters. I cannot believe that Gordon has truly only shared himself with his wife and myself. It feels incredible.

The drive back to Hell is too short and soon enough I can make out the steel trident that indicates our journey's end. I look over to Ramsay and he's already looking back at me. He then wordlessly reaches over and takes the ruby pendant of my necklace and drops it behind the back of my shirt, obscuring it from view as it comes to rest between my shoulder blades. 

Thank God he remembered, I was much too excited from our day out. 

He parks the car while it's still running and gets out. I start to get out myself but he makes a tutting sound of protest, so I sit and wait for him to open the door for me.

"My lady," he says, offering his arm to me. I take it and he pulls me up from the car.

"I'm going to go park, you go on in. Service is in one hour, love."

"Alright, thank you for the wonderful time," I say sincerely.

"You're _quite_ welcome," he grins as he slips into the driver's seat and revs the engine before pulling out from the entrance of Hell's Kitchen.

I step up the stairs and grab the handle of the huge glass door, pulling it open. The cool air of the AC hits me as I step back inside.

My most important dinner service thus far is coming up tonight. I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing.


	73. Look at me, I am the Chef now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We prepare for our first dinner service as head chef!

 Wednesday, July 10th, 2013

When I get back into the dining room of Hell's Kitchen, I can see all the other chefs putting the finishing touches on prep before dinner service. Taylor looks up from her cutting board and waves to me with a smile. She then puts her knife down and wipes her hands on a towel before exiting the kitchen in the direction of the dorms.

I head through the red kitchen, Bella touches my arm as I pass by her.

"Thank you for choosing me as your sous chef, girl. You know I got your back."

"I'm glad I picked you, Bella. You're really starting to shine."

She smiles widely then turns back to working on organizing her station.

I take the stairs up to the dorms. Taylor is sitting on the couch waiting for me.

"Here are some prep list instructions I thought you might wanna have before dinner service. Do your best!" she cheerfully claps me on the back when she stands up from the couch, but I can make out a deeper emotion etched on her face. She seems genuinely worried.

I quickly glance down at the note as she descends the stairs. It definitely isn't a prep list.

In the dorms, I see a box waiting for me on the bed. I rush over to it and pull off the lid. Inside lays a pure white head chef jacket with black buttons- it seems I'm the first Hell's Kitchen contestant to pass black jackets and slip straight into a head chef coat, even if only for one day. I run my fingers over the front of it and awe rushes over me. There's a card stuck in the front lapel.

'The head chef of Hell's Kitchen should look the part! Congrats on your win. - Gordon'

The elation I feel at seeing the jacket is only marred by the note Taylor had left me. I scoop up the jacket and hide the necklace box in its folds. I then head into the bathrooms, close the stall door behind me and sit on the toilet lid.

I take a deep breath and unfold the paper with trembling fingers.

'I overheard Pietro telling Kalyani that he suspects there's something going on between you and Chef Ramsay. They were whispering in the hallway next to the pantry and I stumbled into them. I don't think Kalyani believes it, but be careful. They weren't being loud enough to be picked up on the mics I don't think, but just in case they were you need to be extra guarded during interviews.'

I crumple up the note and squeeze it tightly in my fist. I had a feeling winning would be the breaking point for Pietro. He'd held onto his suspicions so long that I'd started to believe he might try to use them to blackmail me. Thank goodness he didn't, but telling Kalyani isn't much better. At least Kalyani has never had a reason to be upset with me.

The sound of the toilet flushing away Taylor's note fills the stall.

I get dressed into my new head chef jacket and stow my necklace in the box before wrapping it up in my clothing and exiting the stall. I stash my clothes and the necklace in my dresser drawer and straighten out the jacket.

No matter what's going on, I have to do this and I've got to do it right.

I make my way downstairs and into the kitchens, passing through the red kitchen on my way to the front.

"Nice coat, babe!" Gina shouts at me, eliciting a giggle from Red.

A smile flits across my face. At least my red team is with me. As I come to the head, I notice Chefs Scott and Christina are in the blue and red kitchen respectively. I suppose they'll be taking over the stations that Bella and Abel would have been on. My two chosen sous chefs are standing at either side of the pass. Both the red and the blue team chefs look up at me expectantly. At the very center, Gordon waits for me with his arms crossed and a smile tugging at his lips.

"You were born to wear that jacket, darling," he compliments me as he steps to the side and opens one arm towards the pass.

"They're waiting on you. Go on and assign stations for everyone, yeah?" he suggests, raising his eyebrows.

I step up to the head of the kitchens and look out into the faces of each of the  chefs under my command.

"Taylor, I want you on fish."

She nods and heads towards her assigned station. I remembered how well she and I did together while paired together on the fish station and I hope that she works the same magic for me tonight.

"Red on meats, please!"

Red scurries over to the meat station and gives a thumbs up.

"Gina, would you handle appetizers?"

Gina bounces into action and slides in behind the app station, grinning.

"Christina, I know I can trust you on the garnish tonight," I smile at her.

"You know it, Chef," Christina was already standing near garnish, so she crosses her arms as she waits for the blue team to be assigned. I already know that Christina will be stellar no matter where I put her, but I wanted to give my red team girls a chance to shine on the more difficult stations.

I wonder what Gordon thinks of my station leader selection, but he's standing with his elbow in his hand and his finger curled across his lips speculatively. He really doesn't want to influence my decisions, it seems.

Choosing which station to give to the blue team members proves to be more of a challenge since I have never really worked with any of them but Kalyani- and that feels like eons ago. After a moment of thought, I lean towards Abel. He leans down to me while keeping his eyes on the blue team and his arms crossed over each other.

"Abel, I don't know the blue team very well. Would you help me with their assignments?" I ask into his ear.

He nods, then immediately speaks up.

"Pietro on meat, Dave on garnish, Scott on fish and Kalyani on appetizers," he recites his directions as if he had already been planning the stations long before I'd asked for his help. It's that sort of foresight that makes me both nervous and in awe of his proficiency in the kitchen.

"All stations in order?" Gordon's voice sounds from beside me.

"Yes, Chef."

"Then why don't you do the honors of opening Hell's Kitchen?" he requests.

"JP!" I shout out into the dining room. JP looks up at me from behind the bar where he'd been polishing the wine glasses.

"Please open Hell's Kitchen!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What kind of cars should Y/N ask for?


	74. My Dinner Service Part 1/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our first experience as head chef is underway!

Wednesday, July 10th, 2013

In no time at all, the dining room fills to full capacity. I notice a few of the patrons glance over at the kitchen then do a double take, surprised to see me in the head chef position. I take a deep breath to steady myself. Hopefully, I can prove to everyone- chef and diner alike- that I belong here.

Gordon stands beside me and I feel comforted knowing that I'm not having to handle the head chef position entirely on my own. This will be a great trial for the big leagues later on.

John-Philippe approaches and leans over the pass, handing me the first ticket for the red kitchen. I take it carefully and read over the scribbled handwriting. I recall Gordon's advice from past seasons of Hell's Kitchen- one must always read the ticket before calling it out just in case there's wrong information written on it. Double checking keeps me from looking like a fool in front of my brigade. 

"Four covers, table twelve- three risotto and one cappellini. How long?" I shout into the red kitchen.

"Uhm, ten minutes, Chef!" Gina says, quickly stirring a big pan of risotto.

As soon as I turn back around, JP hands me a second ticket. This time, it's for the blue team.

"Three covers, table twenty-two- two scallops and one capellini! Time?"

Kalyani doesn't look up from the apps station. I'm about to call out my request a second time when Abel takes over.

"Kalyani, (Y/N) asked for your time!" he commands, his voice edged with steel. 

"Sorry, Chef! Eleven minutes, please!"

More tickets flow in and I get in the groove of calling them out. Gina is first to bring up her appetizers, followed closely by Kalyani.

"Hot behind you, Chef," Gina warns as she slides the risotto up next to me. From my other side, Kalyani drops off her pan and the scallops from the fish station before heading back to her station.

Gordon stands beside me and watches as I take a spoon and try a bite of Gina's risotto.

"You need two more minutes, Gina, but it's seasoned perfectly," I take the pan over to Gina's station and hand it to her.

"Sorry, Chef," she grumbles before putting the pan back on the heat.

"No problem, just test it yourself before you bring it up next time!" I remind her.

I then turn my attention to the scallops, touching them lightly and flipping them over to check the sear- it looks perfect. 

While I check the scallops, Bella plates up the capellini and the re-fired risotto. I call for service and watch with a sense of pride as my first plate of appetizers makes its way out to the hungry masses. 

There isn't a moment of respite before the next two tickets come in. I call out the orders and both kitchens respond with a hearty 'heard!'

The next few tables of appetizers run through like clockwork. I don't let my guard down and test every dish meticulously. The second I stop tasting everything is the second it all falls apart. I don't always have time to plate, however, so I pass about half of the dishes from each kitchen to my sous chefs. 

Gordon has to help Bella with proper plating procedure, but she eventually gets the hang of it. Abel needs no help- in fact, he plates so beautifully that each tray I send out for the blue team looks like it could grace the cover of a food magazine. As I plate yet another order of scallops, a thought claws into my mind. Is he plating better than I am?

"(Y/N)?"

I shake my head clear of my worried thoughts and look over at Abel, who's patiently waiting for my attention.

"Yes, Abel?"

"You seem a bit distracted- you're plating your scallops with the round side inwards," he leans towards the plate I'm working on and turns two of the scallops until the rounded end of the scallop is facing the outer edge of the plate.

Well, shit.

I guess he is plating better than I am. 

It's my own fault letting my thoughts cloud my mind. I can't let myself think of anything but food and running the kitchen right now.

"Thank you, Abel."

He nods then turns towards the blue kitchen to watch their progress.

The last order of appetizers for the blue kitchen comes in before the red kitchen. Abel was smart to put his strongest Chef on the apps station. Every dish has come out tasting perfect. While Abel plates, I grab their first entree ticket and call it out.

"Table twenty-two, two New York strip and one sea bass!"

"Heard!" the blue kitchen calls back, then goes quiet. 

"Can meat and fish call out their times? Come on guys, don't fall silent now!" I say, trying to spur the Chefs to talk to each other.

Scott calls out his time, but the meat station stays mute.

I peer into the back of the blue kitchen at Pietro's station. Pietro has several different portions of meats already pre-seared and laying on a rack. He's sweating heavily and keeps wiping his forehead. He didn't seem to hear what I'd asked.

"Pietro, please tell Scott how long!"

He looks up at me, his eyes burning.

"I said it'll be four _fucking_ minutes, Chef!" he seethes.

Gordon- who had been keeping relatively quiet- snaps his head up from the pass and locks his sights on Pietro.

"What did you just say, Pietro?" he asks with a threatening calmness.

"I said four minutes, Chef. Three and a half now."

"No, that's not what you said," Gordon keeps his voice low as he stalks into the blue kitchen. Pietro's eyes grow wide. He takes a step back from the meat station. Gordon steps up to him until he's mere inches away from his face. Pietro's forehead shines from the accumulated sweat.

"Now, tell me what you said- and don't you dare lie to me," Gordon commands. Somehow, when he's not screaming he's all the more terrifying. His tall stature towers over Pietro's stout frame. Most of the blue kitchen has stopped working to watch the stand off.

"I- I said four fucking minutes, Chef. I'm sorry. I'm just hot and let the stress get to me," he submits, lowering his eyes.

"Don't you dare _ever_ talk to your head chef that way, be it me or anyone else. We have too much shit to deal with and your shit attitude shouldn't be part of it. Got it?" 

"Yes, Chef..."

“Then get your steak done,” Gordon implores Pietro,  “And someone get this man a bandana before he sweats into our customers' food. If you recall, this is fine dining, not sweaty Uncle Pappies rank old taco truck." Gordon finishes, then throws his hand towel at Pietro's forehead. Pietro catches it and wipes the accumulated sweat from his brow with a hateful glare.

"I have two minutes left on this sea bass," Scott calls.

"My steak is r-resting, it'll be ready when you are," Pietro responds, his voice shaking.

Someone from the production crew comes in through the back of the blue kitchen and tosses Pietro a bandana, which he ties around his glistening forehead. 

During the commotion, the red team silently finished their appetizers. Bella plated them for me so they're just waiting to be sent out. I call over the waiter.

"You know where this is going?" I ask. The waiter nods before taking off towards the table of hungry customers. I look over the tickets and grab the first ticket for the red team's entrees.

"Table twelve, two sea bass, one Wellington and one Arctic char- how long?"

Red swaps glances with Taylor before they both call out in tandem- "Eight minutes, Chef!"

Thank goodness my ladies are on it tonight. They might not have finished apps first, but they're showing much better communication than the blue team thus far. I just have to hope they keep up the pace.


	75. My Dinner Service Part 2/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The finale to our dinner service!

Wednesday, July 10th, 2013

Pietro hobbles toward me with New York strips in hand. This time it seems he's the one avoiding my gaze. He drops the pan with a loud clang- Purposeful or not, I let it go.

I touch the top of the steak. It's under-cooked. I call Pietro back before he reaches his station.

"Pietro, these steaks are raw. A few more minutes in the oven, please!"

When he gets back to the pass he glowers.

"You're full of shit."

"Excuse me?" 

"You didn't cut them open. You just want me to over cook them so I look bad."

Does Pietro think I'd sabotage him as the head chef? _Really?_

"I don't have to cut these open to know they're raw, Pietro. Don't argue and put them back in the oven for two minutes," I try to keep calm.

"If these over cook it's your fault," he grabs the tray and heads back to his station.

From beside me, I sense Bella and Gordon watching how I handled Pietro. Maybe I should have cut the steak open, but preserving all the delicious juices of the steak felt more important than proving myself to him. I know for a fact I'm right so wasting time to prove it would only get the entire kitchen behind.

I press on, calling out the next order of entrees for the blue kitchen. The meat orders are piling. Hopefully Pietro can keep up.

Taylor approaches the pass with both of her sea bass, one Arctic char, and Red's Wellington.

"You're doing great, Chef," she praises me as she slides the plate up beside me.

"Thank you, Taylor," I peer into the flaky fish skin with a fork, "The fish is beautiful!"

I slice into Red's Welly and it's cooked perfectly.

"Well done on the Welly, Red!"

"Not a problem, Chef!" she waves her tongs in the air.

I call out the next order for the red team. Pietro arrives at the pass later than I expected.

"I asked for two minutes in the oven. Why did this take so long to come up?"

"You said it was raw, Chef. So I cooked it like it was raw."

Pietro shrugs.

I touch the top of the steak. It feels like a rock.

"Pietro. I told you two minutes and you come up six minutes later with what could pass for a rock. Listen to me," I urge.

Pietro scoffs but doesn't move.

"Well? Do you have replacements ready to go?"

Chef Scott slides his sea bass onto the pass and casts a glance at Pietro. If Pietro doesn't have a spare ready, Chef Scott will have to cook another sea bass as this one has already been dying for a while now.

"Give me three minutes and I'll get you another one," Pietro heads back towards his station. 

I give an apologetic look to Scott.

"I'll be ready when he is," Scott shakes his head and takes his sea bass plate, dumping the fish into the trash bin.

The blue kitchen has fallen behind the red kitchen with Pietro holding them back from their first entrees being sent out.

Finally, Pietro brings up his steaks. Chef Scott slides his sea bass next to me with an irked look. I know he's not keen on cooking another perfect sea bass for the bin. 

I touch the top of the steak and it's cooked properly, thank God. I slice and plate them, trying to find the spot between hustle and perfection to get this late ticket to it's table.

I send out the blue team's entrees and call out their next ticket. A hand lightly touches my side.

I see Gordon looking into the red kitchen.

"It looks like Gina could use your expertise on the fish station, yeah?" he looks at me.

"Sure, Chef. Cover for me?"

He nods and I head into the red kitchen to stand alongside Gina. Gina and Taylor work on the ticket I'd called out. It had been a six cover and all of the orders were for fish.

Gina floated over to help Taylor but is now struggling.

"Motherfucker..." Gina hisses as she flips her Arctic char and the meat falls off the skin.

"Gina, let me help. First, don't use a non-stick pan."

She looks at me like I grew a third eyeball.

"Why not?"

I reach under the counter and pull out a large stainless steel skillet, placing it on the heat.

"The skin will never get crispy enough in a non-stick pan. Use a big pan with as much surface area as possible to allow the steam to flow away from the flesh."

She listens intently.

"As soon as you put the fish skin-side down, use a thin metal spatula to press the top of the filet so the bottom side of the filet makes contact with the pan. Hold it for about thirty seconds."

"But that doesn't stop the skin from sticking?"

I shake my head. "The skin will stop sticking in three to four minutes. The edges of the skin will brown and the flesh will turn opaque halfway up the side. Once you see that, slide the spatula under the fish. If you feel resistance, stop and give it another ten or twenty seconds," I indicate for her to add oil to the now hot pan, "Once you get the spatula under with no resistance, flip it and finish cooking. Got it?"

Gina nods.

"Thanks, Chef!" 

"No problem, Gina!" I head back to the pass where Gordon towels clean the rim of a plate. He steps aside.

"Good instructions, (Y/N). Gina looks calmer. You're halfway there," he encourages.

Entrees flow from the kitchen. Any time Pietro brings his meat, Abel intercepts him and checks the temperature. 

"Don't make me regret giving you the meat station," Abel sends Pietro back to re-fire a steak.

Pietro respects Abel. He appears sorry for his mistakes. Maybe it's the fact they know each other better, but I feel jealous over Abel's easy leadership.

Red messes up the temperature on her steak shortly after Pietro is sent back. Not only is she apologetic but she also has a spare steak to bring and replace the overcooked one. Being so well prepared helps limit the impact on the red kitchen's entree completion. The red team finishes first, leaving the blue kitchen behind in the dust of four unfinished entree tickets.

"Can I go help the blue team, Chef?" Bella eyes the garnish station falling a bit behind the team. Specifically, I notice her eyeing Dave. 

I shrug. The red team is preparing their desserts, which doesn't require the assistance of a sous chef.

"I don't see why not." I smile. She returns the smile before heading into the blue kitchen and sliding next to Dave on the garnish station. She and Dave send out garnishes perfectly in tandem with the meat and fish stations and the rest of the tickets are worked through.

As the last dessert is sent from the kitchens, Gordon tosses his towel over his shoulder and claps his hands.

"Clear down everyone. Good work, red kitchen. It's clear the blue team lost this service. Right when I thought they were finally pulling together," Gordon shakes his head, "Blue team, go upstairs and decide on two chefs you think should be leaving Hell's Kitchen. As for the red team and (Y/N), go rest. I'll call you down when we're ready for elimination, yeah?" he tilts his head, his blond bangs tumbling to the side.

"Yes, Chef," the blue team grumbles, trudging out. The red team trails behind. Bella steps back from the pass and nods to me before following the team. Soon enough only Gordon, Abel and I all stand at the head of the kitchen.

"I hope you enjoyed yourself, (Y/N)," Gordon says with a grin.

"Oh yes, Chef, I learned a lot. This will help me tremendously as the competition continues," I respond, feeling elated at the completion of my dinner service.

Gordon turns to Abel, who patiently stands with his hands behind his back.

"Was there something you needed, Abel? Your team will surely want to hear your opinion of their performance today," Gordon notes. 

Abel's eyes flit from Ramsay's to mine. "Of course- I'll be joining them in a minute. I wanted to apologize for the attitude that Pietro gave you today. He's always worked well on meats, I didn't imagine he'd let personal issues get in the way of his success on the station. If I had known him to be so petty, I would have put him on a less important station."

I raise hand to stop him.

"It's alright, Abel. You couldn't have known he'd screw himself over just to spite someone."

Abel shakes his head. "I didn't know, but I should have. I thought him to be a greater man than to let frivolous things impact his cooking. I find myself having to re-think a lot of what I thought I knew recently. Next time you put your faith in me, I will make sure I don't let you down," the intensity in which he makes his statement doesn't leave an inch for me to doubt what he says.

"I know you won't," I affirm. 

Abel relaxes his tense shoulders. 

"Thank you, Chef." Though he stands next to Gordon, his eyes don't leave mine.

"Of course, Chef, thank you too," I feel my cheeks begin to flush under the intensity of his gaze.

He nods curtly and turns, exiting the kitchen. I flick my eyes towards Gordon, who gives me look I can't place. The red in my cheeks intensifies. My body betrays my nervousness at the resolute way Abel makes his statements. The level of confidence he exudes is unreal.

"Hand me your head chef jacket and join your team, (Y/N). The elimination is approaching and you'll need to be in your red team jacket again."

"For sure, Chef. I'll change," I say as I hand my jacket to him and rush towards the kitchen exit. As I reach the doorway, I make out Gordon standing at the head of the pass with his arms crossed and the same curious expression. My inability to ask what he's thinking eats at me as I climb the steps. At the top of the stairs, I take a few deep breaths. The red team chats happily a few feet away.

With one last breath, I step into the dorms and the room quiets.


	76. Elimination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The most pulse-pounding elimination thus far is upon us!

Wednesday, July 10th, 2013

I peer towards the women. Taylor, Red, and Gina are on the couch and Bella sits in the armchair across from them. Each of them looks at me.

Taylor lifts her hands and slow claps. The others join . Eventually, all of the women clap and cheer. 

Red hops up off the couch and runs into my chest, wrapping her arms around my torso. If she weighed more than a hundred pounds I might have gone flying back down the stairs! I return her hug and she looks up at me with sparkling green eyes.

"You did _amazingly_ , (Y/N)! We're so lucky to have you on our team!" Red squeaks before burying her face into my shoulder like a kitten seeking warmth.

I laugh and rest my cheek atop her sprightly curls before she draws back and takes my hand.

"Come, sit with us! Tell us what it was like!" she cheerfully leads me towards the sofa. 

I take a seat on the sofa next to Taylor and Red curls up next to me. Gina peers over Taylor's shoulder and Bella grins from the armchair. Taylor hands me my red team jacket and I take it gratefully, pulling it on.

"So? Start from the beginning! Hurry up, the elimination is coming up!" Gina bounces in place, "Oh! Oh-oh! Who do you think is out?" 

"Wait, so do you want me to start from the beginning, or tell you who I think is out?" 

Gina rolls her eyes. "Start anywhere, but hurry!"

"Alright," I feel the burning sensation of everyone's rapt attention, "So Chef Ramsay told me how to handle service, but it still was pretty nerve-wracking. Thank goodness you guys responded to me when I'd call things out."

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my legs and clasping my hands together.

"The blue kitchen had a lot of trouble with this service. Pietro kept bringing up raw and overcooked steaks. The weird thing is Abel said he was very proficient on meat, so I don't know why he'd suddenly get lazy and not care about the quality of the food he produces."

Bella shrugs. "Maybe Abel was wrong. Maybe Pietro sucks at meats but now was the first time you'd seen it first hand."

I shake my head. "No... I don't think Abel would misjudge his team's abilities. Every other station was perfect. It was only Pietro. Honestly, I don't even know who they'll try to put up alongside him."

Right as I finish my sentence, the phone in the center of the room rings.

Bella stands up and goes to take the phone off the hook.

"Heyyy Chefff," she says in a sing-song voice.

"Right, we'll be down in a minute! Come on, ladies," Bella leads us down the stairs.

We slide into a booth and wait in partial darkness. Shortly after, the blue team lines up in front of the kitchens.

A spotlight turns on and follows Chef Ramsay through the restaurant until he's standing twelve feet or so away from the blue team, next to a small black end table.

"Well, I hope you all have come to a decision. Dave, who is your first nominee and why?" Gordon crosses his arms and waits stoically for Dave to answer.

"Chef, our team decided on Pietro being the one to go up. He fell flat on the meat station today," Dave shrugs.

"I agree, now, the second nominee?" 

Dave looks beside and behind himself at the other chefs. He shrugs again.

"Chef, we don't know..."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Gordon taps his foot, his patience running thin.

"No one else failed as hard as Pietro today. We couldn't decide who to send up..."

"Do you need me to make your decision for you? Because I'm sure you won't like it."

Dave bites his tongue and looks at his team again.

"No, Chef. Uh..." he pauses, gulping, "Kalyani, Chef. She has a bit of trouble communicating in the kitchen."

"There, now was that so difficult?" Gordon asks incredulously.

"N-no Chef..."

"Good. Pietro and Kalyani, step forward."

Both the chefs approach the chopping block. Pietro is sweating heavily again under the radiant spotlight that follows them.

"Now, Kalyani. Please tell me why you deserve to stay in Hell's Kitchen."

Kalyani stands proudly and without a hint of fear in front of Chef Ramsay.

"Chef, I understand I have communication issues occasionally- but I swear I'm working on it. Nothing I sent up got sent back today, even though I was a bit late on calling my times. I always give it my all in the kitchen," she says confidently.

Gordon turns his piercing gaze towards Pietro.

Instead of looking proud, Pietro looks defiant.

"Pietro, please explain to me what the fuck you were doing tonight?"

"Fuck you, Chef."

"Excuse me?" disbelief laces Gordon's words.

"I said..." Pietro takes a step forward. I notice two security guards in the shadows of the dining room take a step forward as well.

" _Fuck_. _You_."

"Pietro, are you out of your bloody mind? You made it this far just to throw it all away?" Gordon questions.

"This fucking show was rigged from the first day. There was no chance of me winning and you know it, you fucking hack. I used to respect you. Now I can't look at you without wanting to spit in your face," Pietro finishes, and hocks a wad of spit up at Gordon. Without missing a beat, Gordon takes a smooth step backward and the saliva glob lands on the floor in front of him like a slimy offering.

The security guards make their presence known at this point, they move to stand on either side of Ramsay, who is looking cool and unaffected by Pietro's outburst. Gordon holds up his hand to stop the pair of burly men from getting any closer.

Pietro takes another step towards Ramsay. "Fucking sluts ruin everything. A slut always has an easy path through life. As long as a whore is there to throw her legs over her head, men will forget their duties and their honor," Pietro rips his jacket open and throws it at Gordon's feet. He spits on the jacket and looks up at Ramsay with fury in his eyes, "But _I never_ forget mine."

Internally, I'm frantically trying to keep my heart from beating out of my chest. Externally, I'm keeping a calm facade. At any point, Pietro could accuse me and I may have to defend myself. Or would I even defend myself? What if Gordon doesn't deny it? Is now the time to out our relationship to the world? 

"Mark my words, the person who wins Hell's Kitchen will have fucked their way to the top. Get out of my way," Pietro concludes spitefully as he steps towards Gordon. Gordon moves to the side and Pietro pushes past until he exits the doors of Hell's Kitchen. 

The room is silent as Gordon turns back towards us. Slowly, a grin spreads across his face. He lets out a hearty chuckle. 

Nervous laughter follows from the rest of the chefs until it evolves into real laughter. 

"That man was a piece of work, eh?" Gordon winks at us, "Let's get one thing straight, not one of you will have to fuck anyone else to win. Pietro had as good of a chance at winning as the rest of you do. Now, does anyone else want to have a temper tantrum and storm outside? I'm sure the remaining chefs would love to be even closer to the black jackets."

Our laughter dies down as we shake our heads. None of us are going to give up our chance of winning. 

"Now, I do have one thing that needs to be addressed," Gordon's eyes flow over the rest of the contestants before they land on me.

"(Y/N), step forward please."

The constant swirl of emotions has me feeling light-headed. I barely comprehend what my body is doing before I'm standing on the chopping block in front of Gordon.

"Take off your jacket."

Unlike the other times I've stripped down for him, I feel unease rather than elation. I hold my jacket between both hands.

"Come here. Hand it over."

I approach him. He has an incomprehensible look in his eyes. My stomach flies up into my throat with the intensity of the emotions that course through my body. Strangely, the urge to kiss him passionately grips me. I struggle to keep my head on straight. I shakily hand him my jacket.

"You won't be needing this anymore," Gordon tosses my jacket over his shoulder.

He leans over and pulls a jacket out from underneath the black end table beside him. 

"The blue kitchen is looking sparse. In order to keep the teams even, I'll need you to join the blue team for me, yeah?"

I nod, feeling detached. Everything is so surreal. The emotions I've been tumbling through the entire day- elation, love, passion, anxiety, authority, disbelief, dread, jubilation and confusion- swirl through my consciousness like a hurricane. 

I take the blue jacket from Chef Ramsay and slip it on as I head over to the blue team line up.

The red team women look over at me. None of them seem particularly happy I've been moved, but Taylor looks like she might cry. I try to give her a smile, but my entire body feels exhausted. The best I can muster is a slight twitching of my lips. 

"Now the blue team should thrive with such a strong new teammate. As for the red team, I expect one of you to step forward and take over as the new leader. Use this opportunity to _really_ shine," he shifts his eyes to the blue team, "Since you've lost, blue team, please clean up both kitchens. (Y/N), you're welcome to head to bed. Since you were immune from elimination today it's only fair that you should be immune from your team's punishment."

I shake my head. Though I'm more drained than I'd ever been in my life, I don't want my new team's first impression of me to be that I'm lazy.

"It's alright Chef, I'll help them clean."

One of Gordon's eyebrows raise.

"Are you sure?"

I nod.

"The faster it's done, the faster we all can get to bed and rest for tomorrow."

Gordon shrugs his broad shoulders.

"Suit yourself, then. Have a good night, everyone," he waves goodbye to us before heading back towards his office with my old jacket over his shoulder and Pietro's jacket pinched between two fingers and held out at a good distance from himself so as to not touch the spittle.

I head into the blue kitchen with my new teammates and get started on cleaning up the mess my first dinner service had made. 

Abel is the first to approach me. "Good to have you on our team."

"Good to be here," I respond, even though I'm not exactly sure how I feel. As soon as Abel leaves, Dave approaches me.

"Glad you're with us, you were a real workhorse today," Dave compliments. I give him a small smile.

Kalyani is the last to acknowledge me as I lean in to the oven with a cleaning towel.

"Well, today was an eventful day for you, wasn't it?" she says from behind the open oven door.

I nod as I scrub the oven clean.

"Let's just hope what Pietro said was an exaggeration," she laughs nervously.

The paper Taylor had given me flits back into my mind's eye. I peer at Kalyani from around the oven door. She is looking anxiously at her feet.

"Pietro's off his rocker. I wouldn't put any weight to his words," I say, trying to help Kalyani feel calm. She doesn't appear to take any comfort in what I said.

"Right... He was just crazy..." she mumbles before turning away and scrubbing dishes with a far off look in her eyes.

Please Kalyani, please don't get tangled up in this mess...


	77. When will this day End?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn a bit more about Y/N's backstory, and a friendship bond forms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, this is the longest day in Hell's Smitten thus far, TWELVE CHAPTERS long! So this chapter's title is no joke!

Wednesday, July 10th, 2013

Once the kitchens are spotless, my new team and I trudge up the stairs together. I've not had time to process what happened- my brain has been on autopilot ever since being called up to the chopping block. The interview crew tries to intercept me at the top of the stairs, but I manage to wave them off, promising to talk with them tomorrow. 

Most of the chefs had already prepared a fast dinner for themselves during lunchtime, but since I was gone I had no time to make myself anything. My blue kitchen teammates finish off their meals then head into the bedroom without much talking. I wonder when we'll inevitably discuss what Pietro might have meant. Everyone must be in shock still. 

Abel steps back out of the blue dorm a minute later with a fresh book in his hands. He heads towards one of the armchairs and sits down with his back to the kitchen.

I have no idea how Gordon deals with the stress of leading two kitchens and still wakes up early every morning to set up our challenges. Maybe it gets better over time, or maybe I wouldn't be so drained if I didn't have to deal with so many conflicting emotions in one day. 

I sleepily head into the kitchen and stare dully into the fridge with cloudy eyes. I should eat something before bed. It's already close to midnight, so I don't have time for anything extravagant. I pull out some wheat bread, a package of turkey, mayo, and some muenster cheese. This will have to do.

I set the ingredients on the countertop and begin working on preparing my sandwich. A fly buzzes past my head annoyingly and lands on a calendar hanging on the wall above me. I give it a hateful look. Damn flies. Make your own food, you freeloaders.

My eyes move past the fly onto the calendar. 

Today is July tenth.

Reflexively, my eyes trail across the calendar until they land on July thirteenth. Unlucky thirteen. The day my parents died. 

I had hoped being at Hell's Kitchen would distract me so I'd miss the day entirely. Usually, I'd call out of work and spend the day curled up in my bed mourning them. Even though my jobs never paid well, they weren't heartless and never made me come in on that day. Now I don't have much of a choice. It's not like I can take a break from Hell.

The numbers on the calendar begin to get fuzzy and mesh together. Somewhere far off, I hear the sound of the fly taking off. Before I know what's happening, my eyelids droop and exhaustion overtakes me.

*~*~*

I clamber from the creaky chair and admire my work. A rainbow-lettered 'Welcome Home' banner sways in front of my doorway. Dad will get a kick out of this. Sure, maybe 'Welcome Home' isn't the most fitting of banners, but I'd severely narrowed my options when I waited until the last minute to stop my bike at the Dollar Store and pick it out. So it was this or 'Happy Birthday'.

Careful to avoid any accidental bumps, I slide the chair back under the table. The cake I'd baked for the occasion sits under a glass dome, its clean white icing contrasting heavily with the pitted wood of the ancient, rickety surface beneath it. Each chair around the table is mismatched, but hey- they were cheap. 

My back pocket starts vibrating with an incoming text. I pull out my flip phone to see an incoming message from mom. 

"Honey, congrats on your apartment! We know it must have been so hard saving up for it. 

We are so proud of you, and we have a special gift for you when we get there! See you at 3:00! 

Love, Mom and Dad"

I smile at my phone then write up a short response.

"Awesome! I can't wait to show you guys the place. Movin' on up ;)  Love you."

My phone slides back into place in the back pocket of my jeans. I rest my hands on my hips and let out a deep breath. 

Mom and dad are never on time. Now it's just a waiting game to see how late they're going to be.

Slowly but surely, three o'clock passes. Another twenty minutes pass and still nothing. I start to get anxious as I catch myself glancing at the clock more and more frequently. 

Unable to bear waiting any longer, I pull out my phone and dial my mom's number since my dad would likely be the one driving. The phone sends me straight to voicemail, where my mother's cheery voice asks that I please leave a message after the tone.

"Hey mom, are you and dad still coming? If you're stuck somewhere, let me know. I would come and get you but I don't think my bike can fit more than one passenger," I chuckle slightly as I try to maintain calm, "Alright, anyway, I love you."

I end the call and pass my phone from one hand to the other nervously. After a few minutes, I decide to call my dad. If he is driving, he can always pass the phone to mom and have her answer it.

Two rings in and the phone picks up.

"Hello?" a woman's voice crackles through the phone over a cacophony of noise. It isn't my mother's voice. My spine tenses. What is all that noise in the background?

"Uh, can you pass me to my dad, please?"

She's silent for a moment. A siren blares into the phone.

"What's going on?" I ask anxiously.

"This is Officer-" a _bzzzt_ cuts off her sentence, "-the news..."

"What? I can't hear you!" I shout into the receiver before noticing that the call had been ended. 

What was it she'd said about the news? 

I rush over to my TV and flick it onto the local news station. The traffic copter is zooming in on a car pile-up in the middle of the highway. 

"-a huge tragedy. Six vehicles were involved in an accident caused by an ignited oil spill on the road. Police, firefighters, and medics are on the scene. It's not quite known yet how many are injured or dead. Civilians and their motor vehicles are being directed off the closest exit ramp to avoid a potential explosion from the flaming vehicles..."

The traffic cam pans over the cars. I don't recognize my parents' vehicle, so I let out a small sigh of relief and sink into the couch. They must have been stopped up by this crazy accident is all. They'll be here soon.

I try to distract myself from the foreboding feeling in the pit of my stomach by flicking through the TV channels idly. 

Midway through a movie, my phone starts to ring. I grab it quickly and look to see who's calling. My dad's smiling portrait from my high school graduation fills up the screen.

With trembling fingers, I answer the call.

"Dad! Are you and mom OK?" 

Nervous tears well in my eyes.

"Ma'am," the woman's voice from earlier comes in crystal clear this time, "My name is Officer LaShauna. Your parents were in an accident."

My phone slips from my fingers and lands on the tattered couch.

"Hello?" LaShauna calls out from the phone, sounding far away.

I hurriedly grab the phone and hold it to my ear.

"No, they can't be. I didn't see their car in the accident. How did you get this phone?" 

She clears her throat. "I don't know if you took a look at the news, but there was a six-car pile-up on the highway."

I clutch the phone like it's a lifeline and wait for her to continue.

"An oil tanker sprung a leak. We're not sure what ignited the oil, but it got out of hand very quickly. Cars lost control and spun out. The fire melted tires and trapped cars in the blaze."

I can't help myself from interrupting with barely contained panic, "OK, but what happened to my parents?"

She sighs heavily. I can feel her pity through the phone.

"A few of my fellow officers and I were able to scour the perimeter of the accident to look for people trying to escape the fire before the firefighters arrived. I... I'm sorry," she hesitates.

"Sorry about what? What happened?" I pressure, panic flooding my voice.

"I passed by your parents Jeep. It had been hit so hard it was rolled over directly into the fire. The driver's side window was smashed and a few different things were scattered on the road. I would have missed this phone, but it was ringing with your call. I'm sorry..." she repeats. 

"Huh? My parents don't drive a Jeep?" I say, confused. 

It dawns on me all at once.

The surprise they had mentioned. A weak cry works it's way up from my throat.

"The Jeep must have been their gift... Are they... are they OK?" I whimper into the phone, afraid to hear her response.

"No ma'am. We loaded your parents up into the ambulance and gave it all we could but," LaShauna exhales slowly as if prepping herself to continue, "they... they didn't make it. The firefighter said they'd passed out from smoke inhalation, so their last moments were painless..."

As the Officer continues, her words barely register. In my mind's eye all I can see are my parents' bodies in the overturned Jeep, the fire licking up the sides as they hang upside down, strapped in by their seat belts. Who knows how long as the fire ate away at them. How long had it been before the firefighters were able to get to them? Was there even a point to attempting to save what was left? Were they in complete agony? 

The officer goes through standard procedure, giving me a number to call to collect their remains. Through my blurry tears I managed to find a piece of scrap paper to write it down. 

She continues on, but her voice becomes dull. A steady throbbing feeling starts at the back of my head. 

My eyes glaze over and I pass out on the couch.

*~*~*

"(Y/N)?" A worried voice sounds from beside my ear.

"H-huh?" I mumble, feeling groggy. I then notice I'm halfway to the floor with my knees bent and strong arms supporting me from underneath my armpits. 

Slowly, I'm raised to my feet, but the careful hands continue to keep me from slipping back down to the ground. The butter knife I'd planned on using to slather my sandwich in mayo lays glinting on the floor.

"What happened? Are you alright?" the comforting voice asks.

"Oh, yeah, no I'm... I'm fine," I sigh deeply and turn my head to see who kept me from cracking my head on the tile flooring.

"You don't look fine," Abel responds, his crystal blue eyes flooded with worry.

I feel my body slide back into his chest as my eyelids flutter.

"Come sit down."

He leads me towards the couch and helps me to sit. I sink into the suede fabric with a groan.

Abel sits down next to me, concern etched across his face. I curl my legs up to my chest and rest with my chin on my knees.

"Are you going to randomly pass out again? You're lucky I don't sleep much or you'd be in the hospital right now with a concussion. I noticed you frozen in place for a while before you began to drop. I ran over as fast as I could to catch you."

"Thank you," I say weakly, "no, I should be fine. I was just overwhelmed is all."

"You did fine today, I know it wasn't the work that overwhelmed you. If you want to tell me what did, I'll listen," Abel curls his hands together in his lap.

It occurs to me I'd never told anyone what happened to my parents. I mean, I'd told people they were dead and it was because of a car accident, but never the full story. I guess now is as good of a time to tell it as any.

So I recite my story to Abel, who listens with genuine interest. His eyes stay locked onto mine the entire time. He has a way with his mannerisms that makes it feel like he's always giving his undivided attention.

When I finish, Abel's eyes are glistening. 

Wait, is he tearing up? Abel the stoic? Because of me?

"I'm so sorry that happened to you, (Y/N). No one should have to go through that," he sympathizes, "Everything you've been through makes it even more impressive that you're here. I mean, you just ran Hell's Kitchen as the head chef and there's only eight of us left. Your parents would be proud."

I nod. "Mom and Dad always told me that someday they'd watch me get berated by Ramsay on television," I laugh softly, "Even though they can't watch me through the TV, maybe they can get an even better view from Heaven."

Abel returns the nod. "For sure. Listen. If you need anything, anything at all, just ask. I know we're supposed to be rivals, but this is one of the most grueling and intensive reality TV shows that there are and everyone needs support. Especially now that you're on the blue team and not with your friends."

I smile gently. "You're my friend, Abel. Thank you again. I promise I won't pass out on you anymore."

"If you do, I'll catch you again, I promise," he says determinedly. 

Even though I know he can't promise things like that, some part of me believes him.


	78. Taste Test Challenge Part 1/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the most anticipated challenges of Hell's Smitten starts today!

Thursday, July 11th, 2013

Christina's voice calls out to us from the main dorm area, waking me much too early. 

"Come on, Chefs! Let's get crackin'," she claps, "There's an awesome challenge waiting for you all outside. Y'all have fifteen minutes to be dressed and ready!"

I groan and roll over in the bed. Taylor yawns widely from the bed beside mine where she sits at the end.

"Good morning, (Y/N)!" 

I lift my head from the pillow groggily.

"Hey, Tay. Sorry, I'm exhausted from yesterday," I grumble.

"Don't be sorry, you had a lot of responsibility to deal with. At least Chef Ramsay didn't say there would be an elimination today, so maybe things will be a bit easier."

Pushing myself from the bed, I sit on the side and stretch out my sore legs. Between swimming, running around during service, and nearly collapsing, my legs are shot.

Taylor hops from her bed over to mine and scoots towards me.

"I was really sad to see you moved over to the blue team. I guess you were outshining us over here and Ramsay probably wants to give one of us a chance to step up. I just... I'll miss you," she reaches her arms out and wraps them around me. I lean into her hug and close my eyes.

"I was pretty shocked about being moved too, not going to lie. All the stress really got to me. I almost fainted last night."

Taylor's eyes widen. 

"Are you OK?" 

I nod.

"Thankfully, Abel never sleeps so he was up when I started to fall and he caught me," I say as I rub the sleep from my eyes.

"Really? He never sleeps?"

I give her a sidelong glance. "No, not never, but hardly ever. He just sits up reading books all night."

"That doesn't make sense, how does he preform so well in challenges without sleep?"

I shrug. "He's probably a robot or something? I don't know, you should ask him."

She releases me from her hug and grins.

"I think I will!"

Taylor stands and holds her hand out. I take it and she helps pull me to my feet. I hiss through my teeth as my knees crack. Please oh please have mercy on us today, Chef Ramsay, I don't know if my legs can take much more.

Taylor and I head into the main dorm area together after donning our jackets. My stomach rumbles. Last night, Abel finished preparing my sandwich for me, but that's all I'd eaten. I grab a muffin from the tray of muffins someone had baked and plop on the couch. Immediately, Taylor scopes out Abel who's sitting by himself on a stool at the end of the bar idly stirring a glass of orange juice. 

He raises an eyebrow when Taylor scoots out the stool directly next to him and gives him a wide grin.

"So, Abel," she starts, "I heard you rescued (Y/N) last night because you just so happened to be awake. I was wondering, are you some sort of super chef robot who needs no sleep and runs on fumes?" she tilts her head. She has the same curiosity in her eyes as a child asking why the sky is blue.

A smile slightly tugs at the corner of Abel's lip. 

"I might as well be. Not needing sleep runs in my family on my father's side. Two or three hours a night and I'm right as rain. Such an ability gives me plenty of time to study."

"Is that what you're doing all the time when we're asleep? Studying? Studying what?" she pries, resting her chin on her knuckles and listening intently.

"I study a wide variety of things, but while I've been at Hell's Kitchen I've been focusing on recipes. That, or just reading for pleasure."

"What does someone who studies all day and night read for pleasure?" 

"I just finished re-reading The Dark Tower series a few days ago."

"Isn't that series like eight books long? Did you just pack a bag full of books to take with you?"

He smiles fully this time.

"Yes."

Taylor giggles. "I believe it."

She reaches out and pats Abel's arm he had been resting on the bar countertop. "Keep taking care of (Y/N) for me, I'm trusting you to make sure she makes it through to the black jackets since I can't carry her any longer!" 

"I'll try my best to help however I can," he says before removing his arm from underneath her hand and swiftly finishing off his orange juice.

She stands from the stool and holds her arm out. I manage to stand from the couch and loop my arm through hers before we walk down the stairs together. Abel trails behind us as we exit the front door of Hell's Kitchen and join the rest of the chefs. 

The morning sunlight glares into my eyes, I have to blink a few times to get my bearings. Taylor unlaces her arm from mine with a pout before heading to join the red team. I slide into place next to Dave and Abel situates himself to my right. 

I look ahead to see Gordon waiting in front of a table with a white tablecloth draped over it. It reminds me of our date yesterday, which brings a faint smile to my face. Behind him there's a delivery truck with the HK logo branded on its side.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen!" Gordon's rich British accent delights my ears. At least one part of me isn't exhausted.

Gordon looks especially giddy, and I am pretty sure I can guess why. The way everything is set up can only mean-

"Today we'll be doing my absolute favorite challenge," he rubs his hands together excitedly, "This is the only challenge aside from the signature dish challenge to reoccur every single season of Hell's Kitchen, and with good reason. No other challenge can test a palate like the blind taste testing challenge!"

He reaches under the table and pulls out a large silver domed platter and places it in the middle of the table.

"Now, we wouldn't want your teammates to get off scot-free should you fail, would we? So this year we're introducing the caramel drop bucket!"

The truck pulls out from behind Ramsay and reveals two black chairs covered in clear plastic arranged five feet from each other. Two poles up either side of the chairs suspend buckets six feet over each chair. A blue tarp lays out underneath the setup and two large metal spigots leading from the top of the buckets to a container between the chairs. On the seat of each chair sits a pair of plastic goggles.

"When one of you comes up to do the challenge, your teammate will sit in the chair. If you fail to guess a food correctly, the spigot will pour some delicious, sticky caramel into the bucket over your teammates head. If you fail to guess two foods, the bucket will fill to overflowing and will pour all over your poor teammate."

"I'm sure you can imagine what happens if you fail all four foods," his bright eyes bounce happily between each of us, "your helpless teammate will take a second downpour of caramel atop their heads! The bucket will be emptied after each teammate's taste testing turn is over. As always, this is a team game so each food you answer correctly will be a point for your team. Now, let's have our first two chefs. Taylor, come sit in the chair. Bella, come here."

Taylor cautiously sits in the chair and snaps the goggles into place. The plastic covering crinkles as she sits. She gives me a nervous glance. 

I'd love to reassure her, but I have no idea how good Bella's palate is.

"Now for the blue team's chefs, Kalyani come sit and Dave please approach the table."

Kalyani groans as she sits in the chair and puts on her goggles. She always takes such good care of her appearance, it's likely giving her preemptive anxiety just sitting in the chair.

She probably is wishing she'd gotten Abel instead of Dave as her partner. I sneak a glance over at him and he's standing with his arms behind his back and his shoulders squared as he watches the chefs get situated. He blinks, and his eyes are on mine. I immediately try to make like I wasn't staring at Abel and instead look at Kalyani as she uncomfortably shifts in her plastic covered chair. 

Ramsay hands out headsets that blare loud enough that I can just barely hear the music, even from where I'm standing on the steps of Hell's Kitchen. He then passes out blindfolds.

"Bella, can you hear me?"

Bella says nothing and puts her hands on the table.

"Dave, can you hear me?"

Dave's head is bobbing to the music but otherwise he makes no motion to show he heard anything.

Gordon lifts the silver dome and reveals four white soufflé cups filled with different colorful cubes. He takes a spoonful of the first dish and holds it up.

"Cucumber," he whispers to us before tapping Bella on the shoulder. She opens her mouth and takes the spoonful of cucumber. Ramsay feeds Dave his own spoonful.

After a moment, he taps Bella's shoulder again.

"Uhh... ummm... is it... squash?" 

Gordon lifts one side of her headset.

"Wrong, cucumber."

She pouts as Gordon taps Dave's shoulder.

"Cucumber, Chef."

Gordon lifts one ear of Dave's headset and congratulates him. Kalyani relaxes slightly in her chair.

"Next up, shallots."

He feeds both of them the cubed shallots and taps Bella.

Bella chews her lower lip. Gordon taps her shoulder again.

"Banana?" she shrugs.

"What the hell? Banana?" Gordon lifts her ear piece, "It's shallots."

Gordon gives a pitying look to Taylor, who squeaks and clenches her eyes shut as the caramel glops from the bucket and lands directly on the top of her head. She wipes the sticky goop from her nose and mouth. Her goggles are completely covered in caramel.

Chef Ramsay taps Dave on the shoulder.

"Scallops, Chef?"

"Wrong, shallots." 

The bucket above Kalyani sloshes as the caramel fills it. She grabs the arms of the chair tightly.

"Next up, pumpkin," Gordon piles the orange cubes into two spoons and feeds both the chefs. He taps Bella on the shoulder after a moment.

"Pumpkin spice!" she immediately says, then doubles back, "No no, it's just pumpkin. Sorry, yeah, just pumpkin."

Gordon shrugs as he lifts her earpiece. "Correct."

Taylor wiped some of the caramel from her goggles so I can see her give me a despondent look. At least she's safe from a second helping of caramel.

Dave also guesses pumpkin, which earns a deep sigh of relief from Kalyani. Only one more food to taste and she could get out of this challenge unscathed. 

"Lastly, we have some cubed green beans."

He feeds the two chefs and taps Bella's shoulder.

"Asparagus?"

"Wrong, green beans!" 

He taps Dave's shoulder.

"Asparagus, Chef?" he says nervously.

Gordon grins widely as he turns to look at Kalyani. She shrieks as the caramel slops onto her head. Some caramel makes a direct hit in her mouth, causing her to sputter. She immediately stands and starts to wipe her hair to get the caramel off.

"It was green beans you fools! Birds of a feather fail together, eh?" Gordon giggles as Bella and Dave remove their headsets and blindfolds. Both their caramel soaked partners get up and stand in line a bit of a ways away from the others so they don't get anyone else sticky. Two of the production crew run out and replace the plastic coverings on the chairs with fresh ones and switch out the caramel buckets.

When Bella and Dave try to step back into line, Gordon tuts. 

"Now now, it's your turn for the chairs. Go on and sit."

They turn away from the chef lineup and head to sit in the chairs.

"Mary and (Y/N), please step up to the table."

Red and I glance at each other and we swallow nervously in tandem. Here goes nothing.


	79. Taste Test Challenge Part 2/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thrilling conclusion of the Taste Test Challenge!

Thursday, July 11th, 2013

Red and I step forward and stop when we reach the table with the ominous silver dome resting on it. Gordon gives me a wide grin as he hands over the blindfold and headset. I put both on and the sound of drums with some sort of techno beat accompaniment flood my ears as I stare into blackness. 

I feel a tap on my shoulder and open my mouth. Gordon feeds me a spoonful of something soft with a  cheesy undertone. I roll it around on my tongue and feel it break apart. A second tap on my shoulder comes a few seconds later.

"Mozzarella cheese, Chef," I say confidently over the drums. My ear piece lifts and I feel Gordon's breath tickle my ear as he whispers that I'm correct. Goosebumps start to form and I find myself arching my neck towards him. Quickly, I situate myself and try to get back into the challenge mindset. I wonder if Red guessed correctly as well, but I don't have time enough to consider it before I feel another tap.

I open my mouth and this time, the smell hits me before the food touches my tongue. It's some sort of fish, for sure. I slide the cubes across my tongue. It's oily, smoky, and salty. The flavor dredges from somewhere deep in my memories. My dad tricked me into eating this by hiding it inside a pizza roll.

"Sardine, Chef."

"Correct," he whispers into my ear before dropping the headset back into place. 

I try to push the recalled memory of my father deep into my mind. There's no time to get emotional when my team needs me.

One more and Dave is in the clear.

The tap comes and I open my mouth. The savory flavor of perfectly cooked meat tantalizes my tongue. But what sort of meat? It's more firm than chicken would be, and it's gamey, so it can't be beef. Suddenly, it clicks.

"Lamb!" I say, remembering how it tasted when I was on the meat station. Gordon lifts my earpiece and I hear a smile in his voice as he lets me know I'm correct yet again. 

One more to go. One more, and I come out with a perfect score. The inevitable tap on the shoulder comes and I open my mouth. An earthy, nutty flavor floods my taste buds. 

A few moments later, a scream pierces through the techno beat. It seems Red didn't get the last bite right.

Whatever it is that Gordon has fed me is delicious, but I'm certain I've never tasted this before. It's sweet, juicy, and tastes like oak trees smell. Maybe it's some sort of mushroom? 

"Black trumpet mushroom?" I hazard a guess. Gordon lifts my headset.

"Wrong, black truffle. Still amazingly close, though," he adds.

Three out of four isn't bad, and I've spared Dave from a sticky fate. 

When I take off my blindfold and headset, I look over at the blue team. The extra gooey Kalyani seems upset that Dave didn't get caramelized. Dave stands from his chair and holds a hand out to Bella, who takes it and un-sticks herself from the chair. Long tendrils of caramel trail from her butt to the seat. 

Gordon puffs up proudly when I glance over at him. I smile and drop my head, willing my cheeks to stay pale. The way he looks so pleased with me will always give me tingles.

When the clear plastic over the chairs is replaced, I head over to sit down. Red smiles apprehensively from her seat across from me.

"Abel and Gina, please step forward."

Immediately I relax. Abel is my partner? I've got as much likelihood of being drenched in caramel as I do winning the lottery. Kalyani's jealousy is evident as she continues to drag her fingers through her sticky mess of hair. I snap my goggles into place, but they feel unnecessary.

Once both chefs don their headset and blindfold, Gordon lifts the silver dome.

"Pear," he says, then feeds both the chefs. 

Abel perks up and shifts his shoulders back. He's got it already, hasn't he?

Gordon taps Gina's shoulder first.

"Persimmon, Chef?"

Gordon lets her know she's wrong. I hear caramel begin to slosh into the bucket over Red's head. She looks over at me ominously, her bright green eyes reminding me of a begging puppy.

"Pear," Abel's confident voice fills the air the second Gordon touches his shoulder.

"Indeed," Gordon announces. 

"Next up, bacon. If Abel gets this right and Gina doesn't, the blue team wins," Gordon raises his eyebrows as he takes a spoonful and feeds it to both chefs.

"Prosciutto!" Gina exclaims. Gordon chuckles as he lets her know she's wrong then turns to watch Red get gooped with barely contained glee. 

The bucket rains down on Red's bright curls as she hunches her shoulders over and keeps her face from being drenched in sticky slimy caramel. It slides down the back of her chef's jacket and I shudder involuntarily. 

As I had presumed, Abel immediately guesses bacon. Maybe he should have gotten the black truffle bite instead of me. I'm curious as to if he'd get it right.

"Congrats, blue team, you've won! Let's continue and get a full scope on everyone's palates and more chances at caramel showers, shall we?"

Kalyani, Dave and I all grin widely at each other. Abel easily pulled this win in for us.

Gordon holds up a spoonful of meat cubes.

"Duck," he announces before feeding the spoonfuls to the chefs.

"Chicken?" Gina guesses when Gordon taps her. 

"Wrong again, Gina!" Chef Ramsay informs her with a sing-song tone to his voice.

Red looks over at me miserably as her bucket once again fills with sloshing sounds.

When it's Abel's turn, for once he doesn't immediately announce the correct answer. He tilts his head slightly and chews one more time before swallowing.

"I'll go with duck, Chef," he says smoothly.

"Right you are, Abel."

A shadow of a smile flits across Abel's face before he composes himself and waits for the last trial.

Gordon heaps two spoonfuls of something white and rubbery.

"Tripe," he whispers to us before feeding his chefs.

Tripe? Is that a fish?

He taps Gina's shoulder.

"Oh God, I don't know Chef! I don't know!" she bounces on her feet anxiously.

"Well you have to say something Gina," Gordon says into her ear, then drops the headset back down.

"Fine, let's go with.... ugh... gelatin?" she cringes as she answers.

"Wrong yet again, Gina! It's tripe!" Gordon chortles into her ear before Red takes a second helping of caramel to the head. 

At this point I'm in no danger of a caramel shower, so I just lean forward to see if Abel knows whatever the hell a tripe is. 

Gordon taps Abel's shoulder.

"Chef, it has to be tripe," he sounds so assured that I wonder if he's been eating tripe for breakfast each morning. 

"Amazing. You're correct, Abel. You have an insanely good palate, young man," Gordon says as Abel removes his headset and blindfold.

"Uh, excuse me Chef but what is a tripe?" Bella asks from the stairs as she wipes the caramel from her chef's jacket.

"It's stomach lining, Bella. It's usually cooked in soups or stews," Gordon answers.

Gina makes a gagging sound.

"Ew what the fuck, I ate a stomach?" she groans as she gags yet again.

"Oh come on now Gina, you ate it just fine and now you're going to get all sickly on us?" Gordon teases.

"You shouldn't have told me it was a stomach, Chef," she mumbles as she holds her own stomach.

Gordon shrugs in a partially apologetic fashion as Gina tries to quell her flipping insides.

I stand from the chair and Abel sits in my place.

"Nice work winning for us, Abel," I compliment him as I head back to the stairs. He nods curtly before snapping on his plastic goggles.

Gina waits for the plastic cover to be replaced before sitting down and glaring at the ominous bucket above her head.

"Kalyani and Taylor, come on over," Gordon waves his arm towards himself.

Both of the caramel coated chefs approach the table. 

"Oh gross, you are going to get my headsets and blindfolds all sticky!" Gordon pouts playfully before handing them over to the chefs.

Once they're situated, Gordon lifts the silver dome and takes two spoonfuls of some sort of brown paste.

"Almond butter," he announces before feeding it to the women.

He taps Taylor's shoulder.

"Almond butter, yummy," she giggles. Gordon informs her that she's correct, then taps Kalyani's shoulder.

"Peanut butter, Chef," she confidently responds, but her confidence is misplaced.

My eyes flick to Abel. His head is bowed as he sits with perfect posture in the chair. Only his index finger tapping against the chair reveals a tepid anxiety at the sound of the bucket filling. His smoothed back blond hair glints in the sunlight. I begin to wonder if Abel has ever been dirty in his life.

Gordon holds up the next spoonful. 

"Squid," he says, feeding the bites to the chefs.

He taps Taylor's shoulder.

"Calamari?" she says halfheartedly. 

Gordon lifts her headset and lets her know she's correct. Taylor smiles widely and claps once.

Chef Ramsay then taps Kalyani's shoulder.

She hesitates for a moment. "Octopus?"

"Wrong! Squid!"

The bucket over Abel's head fills to the top then, agonizingly slowly, it pours over his perfectly styled hair. Abel holds his hand over his nose and mouth, siphoning away the caramel goo off to either side of the back of his hand. 

"Why didn't I think of that?" Bella whines from the red team lineup. 

Gordon prepares the next bite.

"This one should be easy. Egg white," he feeds the two chefs.

Chef Ramsay taps Taylor's shoulder.

"Erm, egg, Chef?" she says tentatively.

He lifts her earpiece to let her know she's correct. He then taps Kalyani's shoulder.

"That has to be cottage cheese, Chef."

Gordon shakes his head as he lifts her ear piece.

"Egg white, Kalyani, come on!"

Kalyani groans. "I knew it, I shouldn't have second guessed myself."

The sound of caramel splorching into the bucket over Abel's head fills the air. Abel tenses his shoulders, a small frown on his lips. 

"This is the final round. Let's see how the ladies do with a delicious bite of pistachio," Gordon feeds the last two bites to the final two chefs.

Taylor smiles the second the pistachio bite is in her mouth. Gordon taps her shoulder.

"Pistachio!"

Gordon lifts her ear piece.

"Amazing, four out of four, Taylor!"

She squeaks happily. Since her eyes are still covered, she beams in Gordon's general direction.

Chef Ramsay then taps Kalyani's arm.

"Is it pistachio?"

"Correct! One out of four, though," he makes a 'tsk' sound as they both remove their headsets and blindfolds. Gordon smirks as he looks over his caramel drenched chefs, then casts a pitying look at Kalyani.

"That's a lot harder than it looks, Chef!" Kalyani groans, " I can't believe I only got one of four. I'm much better than that."

Gordon looks like he's going to pat her back before he thinks better of getting his hand all sticky.

"Don't worry about it, Kalyani. The good thing about your palate is you can always work to improve it. Now, I have a fantastic prize for the blue team today," Gordon claps as Kalyani, Abel, Taylor, and Gina stand back in line.

"While the red team is cleaning up all this gooey mess from the front of Hell's Kitchen, the blue team will be off enjoying themselves with a game of laser tag! While you all play, the red team will prepare a delicious three-course lunch for you all for when you get back. After that, I have a surprise for both kitchens," he looks gleefully out into the chef lineup, "Now run along and shower up, the limo is leaving in thirty minutes! Red team, those of you that need to shower should get it done quickly before this caramel melts everywhere, yeah?"

Gordon shoos us from the steps of Hell's Kitchen and shouts from behind us, "Don't forget to clean up anywhere you track your sticky shoes! I need my kitchen spotless!"

He's met with grumbled, "Yes, Chef"s as the glass doors of Hell's Kitchen swing closed.


	80. Laser Tag Part 1/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our laser quest begins B)

Thursday, July 11th, 2013

My legs ache as we all climb the stairs to the dorms together. The mere thought of running around and trying to shoot people with a bulky laser gun makes me want to shrivel up into a ball. Any other time I'd be excited, but with everything that has happened, I feel more trepidation than anything else. 

Those of us who had been drenched in caramel break from the group and head to the showers, leaving behind Gina, Dave, and I to sit on the couch.

"I don't think I deserved to miss out on having caramel dropped on my head," Gina frowns, "I fucked up and didn't get a single food right. Ramsay should have the person tasting the food sit in the chair, not their teammate."

Dave shrugs. "Nah, it feels more intense when someone else is depending on you. It also makes you feel shittier when you fail."

Gina picks up a pillow from the couch and squeezes it to her chest.

"Ugh, I know... I feel awful for failing Red," she laments, "Plus, Taylor and Abel got perfect scores but both got drenched by their teammates. Life is so unfair!" she finishes with a dramatic flail of her arms.

I keep waiting for someone to mention Pietro storming out of the building, but it never comes up. Maybe Dave and Gina are waiting until we all can discuss it. Or maybe they're all trying their best to forget it like I am. 

Once the showered chefs rejoin us, the blue team members get dressed into something comfortable for our laser tag reward. I pull on a pair of blue jeans and a dark blue tank top with some black high top shoes. 

I rejoin the chefs in the dorm and look around. Kalyani looks lovely wearing a red top with jean shorts and white flats while Dave has on a blue t-shirt with white stripes, cargo shorts, and white sneakers. My eyes come to rest on Abel, who's wearing a simple dark green shirt and black pants with what appear to be black combat boots. I do a double-take. Since when did Abel seem the type to own combat-anything?

When everyone is ready, we head downstairs as a group and exit Hell's Kitchen.

The sickeningly sweet smell of caramel hits my nose. The hot July sun has melted the caramel to where it's pooling up in sticky puddles all over the front steps. Sous Chefs Christina and Scott wait outside with buckets, mops, and towels.

"Come on ladies, you have lots of work to do and not a lot of time to do it. The blue team will be expecting their lunch when they get back!" Christina reminds the red team cheerfully as she shoves a mop into Gina's hands. 

I mouth 'sorry' at the girls and Gina waves her hand dismissively. 

"Go have fun!" she cheerfully says as she wiggles the mop in my direction. I smile and wave bye to the women.

Our limo driver from the first day we'd arrived waits for us with the door to the limo held open. I smile at him as I slide into the seats.

"Hey, Paul!" I greet him. He lights up. 

"Hey, good to see you again. There are a lot fewer of you now, huh? Startin' to get tough!" 

I nod in agreement and he closes the door before heading to the front and starting the limo.

The ride is only ten minutes long before we pull up outside of a warehouse. Kalyani looks confusedly out the window.

"These are what laser tag buildings look like?" she examines the plain-looking exterior. A large sign sporting 'Laser Adventure' hangs above the entrance.

"Must be," Abel says as he opens the door to the limo and holds it open for us to exit before Paul can do so.

Once we're all out of the limo, Paul drives off and leaves us standing in front of the building. A teenager with a 'Laser Adventure' shirt steps out from the main entrance.

"Are you guys the Hell's Kitchen chefs?" he asks in a nasal voice.

"We are," Dave affirms. The kid waves his arm for us to follow and leads us into the building.

The entrance has a greeting desk at the front, restrooms to the left and a few pinball machines and arcade games to the right. There's an unassuming black door directly next to the greeting desk. A group of six teenage boys and two girls surround one racing simulator, cheering on their friend.

"There's a birthday party going on for a few sixteen-year-olds that will be joining you today. They've already decided on playing with teams of two. Hope you don't mind," the kid says.

I groan. "Guys, I won't be much use. My legs are insanely tired after last night. I should sit out."

Dave pouts. "That won't be very fun. Then one of us will be missing a partner!"

"You don't need to sit out, (Y/N). I'll cover you," Abel offers.

"You can't possibly cover for me, I'm practically dead weight," I object.

"It'll help keep things fair."

Fair?! 

" _Pfft_ , yeah, right. OK then Abel, let's do it. But don't say I didn't warn you," I say incredulously.

The nasal-voiced teen- who had been waiting next to the black door beside the desk- opens the door and ushers us inside. He shouts for the teens and they rush inside after us.

The room is almost completely dark. Once we're all inside, the teen flips a switch and the room fills with purple ultraviolet light from above.  As soon as the lights come on, so do the vests along the wall. There's a large steel door almost two stories tall that glows ominously under the UV lighting at the furthest end of the armory. 

Those of us wearing white or light-colored clothes light up purple under the UV rays. I glance at my attire. Aside from my white shoelaces, I'm still quite invisible. Of all of us, Abel seems the most fittingly dressed.

Every two feet there's a long metal bar with a vest hanging from it through the armholes. The vests have a large glowing green target in the center, two lights on the shoulders, and one large green target on the back. All of the lights are flashing rhythmically. Directly above the vests are the laser guns, mounted on the wall. Not all the guns look the same, though. There appear to be laser rifles, laser shotguns, and even a laser sniper rifle.

"So, go on and pick any vest and put it on," the kid instructs us, "you'll notice the green lights, those are your weak points. Since we're playing for an hour, you each have to be hit on all four spots to be out. When hit, the green light will flash red. As soon as we begin, you'll have one minute to get to a position before your guns will activate. You'll know the minute is up when your vest stops flashing green and turns solid green instead."

"How big is the building?" Abel asks the boy.

He shrugs. "Ehh, about three thousand square feet?"

Abel scopes out the rack of guns with a contemplating look.

"Pick a gun now that you've got your vests on, but please don't fight over them," the kid says exasperatedly.

The teenagers scramble to the wall to pick out their guns. Abel reaches an arm right over the top of their heads and lifts the sniper rifle from the wall above them. 

"Pick something short to mid-range, OK?" he instructs me.

I look at the wall again, completely uncertain as to what gun would be best.

"Does the laser shotgun have spread?" Abel asks the teen. 

"It does, it's probably the widest shot of the guns, but the range is short."

"Do you think you could cover me with the shotgun?" 

"I think I could attempt to cover you, yeah?" I say hesitantly.

Abel pulls the shotgun from the wall and hands it over to me. I link it up to my vest by the attached cord and the gun lights up green. Below the rear sight, there's an LED display showing a digital 6.

"Each gun has ammo, in order to reload you have to press and hold the button directly below your LED display. As you hold the button, the LED display will tick upwards until it hits your gun's max capacity. You don't have to fully reload before you can fire again, in case you're wondering. Lastly, a screen right above the entrance will show how many players are still alive. Now, who's ready to get shootin'?" the kid says excitedly.

Most of the teenagers plus Dave raise their guns in the air and whoop.

The instructor pulls a lever beside him. Smoke spills out across the floor as the sound of steam hissing from hydraulic gears fills the room. Slowly, either side of the gigantic steel door roll into crevices on the wall. Inside, the room is black and we are faced with three hallways- one to the left, one to the right, and one straight down the middle.

Abel is beside me with his sniper rifle over his shoulder. He stands taller than everyone else around, and thus watches them all scurry into the darkness. Dave sprints out the door, leaving Kalyani to shout after him and attempt to keep up.

Abel shoots me a glance. 

"You ready?"

I nod determinedly. Let's do this.


	81. Laser Tag Part 2/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our epic laser quest adventure begins!

Thursday, July 11th, 2013

"Let's go down the middle, I didn't see many people go that way. Stay close, OK?" Abel requests.

I nod and clutch my shotgun as I follow him out through the center hallway. After a few feet, it opens into a circle. From our spot directly in the middle of the laser quest field, we can see two castles. The castle on the left has two floors- the bottom floor has a maze of mirrors and the top floor has windows with black bars on them to shoot through. I see blinking green vests rush past one of the barred windows.

The castle to the right has an assortment of dense plastic plants on the bottom floor that look to provide excellent cover, while the top floor has black-barred windows. Unlike the left castle, the right castle has a third level big enough for one or two people to scope out the entire playing field. I notice Abel eyeing the crow's nest vantage point along with me.

"Where should we head? The top of that castle looks perfect for my weapon, but there are still so many people we're bound to get surrounded if we go there."

"Maybe into the plants? At least if someone tries to shoot at us, we can hope a leaf will save our lives from the laser," I suggest.

"Sounds good. We'll try to stick near an opening so we can see who runs past and I can watch into the left castle," he heads towards the plants.

We slide into position, facing the left castle from the cover of a plastic palm plant. 

"Let me know if you see anything, OK? We won't know who's working together, but the teenagers might all group up and try to take us out, so we have to be prepared for an ambush."

The lights on our vests stop blinking and immediately, the building fills with the sound of lasers firing. A loud dwindling sound plays when someone on the floor directly above us gets hit. 

"Fuck!" the teenager yells, and a second sound plays as we hear their footsteps running down the stairs. Abel readies his gun, pointing it towards the exit of the stairs. When the two boys come running down, Abel fires a shot at the leading boy's center target. It loudly sounds off and the kid starts looking around for who shot him. His friend points towards our hide and both of the boys start to approach.

"Get ready..." Abel whispers as he pulls his gun back to give me space to fire. I kneel on the ground to hide my glowing targets and wait for the kids to get closer.

As soon as I get a clean shot, I fire. The sound of being hit blares and the leading boy's left shoulder light flashes red.

"Aw shit dude, I'm gonna be out in the first ten minutes! Let's get outta here!" the kid tells his friend. They turn and run towards the left tower. I fire a single shot at their backs, but they're too far away and I miss my shot.

"Good work, more incoming through the plants," Abel directs my attention to where a few green lights can be seen weaving through the plastic leaves.

I raise my shotgun and continue to kneel. Abel joins me and we both wait for an opening. When I see a green shoulder light blink about five feet away, I fire a shot. I miss, but the sound of my laser going off makes the approaching footsteps lose formation as they begin to scatter.

Abel holds the sniper to his shoulder and leans into the scope. He fires once, and the hit sound goes off. The plants rustle and he fires again, blaring yet another hit sound into the air.

"We need to move, they're not stopping," he begins crouch walking backward while facing the greenery.

I quickly look around. There are a few lights and shots sounding from both the upper floors of the castles, but the mirror maze is silent.

"Let's try and head for the mirror maze," I whisper as I stand up and peer both ways.

Abel fires a third shot into the bushes and the dwindling sound plays. He nods to me and steps out into the open towards the mirror maze. I trail behind him as he walks. As soon as we reach the entrance to the mirrors, the kids in the plants emerge and open fire. I duck to the ground and fire my shotgun twice, hitting the first kid in his chest piece. Abel wheels around. Instead of aiming down the sights, he fires from his hip into the first kid's chest piece. The teen's vest shuts down and his gun stops glowing. He ducks his head in defeat and walks towards the entrance. 

As I'm watching the defeated kid leave, a shot rings out. The dwindling sound plays from my left shoulder. I follow the shot and see Dave grinning madly from the second floor of the right tower.

Without hesitation, Abel lifts his sniper and fires a shot directly into Dave's center chest piece. His smile wipes from his face and he ducks around the corner.

"I have to reload, come into the maze," Abel stands and reaches a hand out to me. I take it and he helps pull me to my feet. 

He leads us into the maze before he releases my hand. 

"Come, stand next to me. Press your back to the wall. It'll keep your back target safe at least," he says as he presses his reload button. 

Our glowing shoulders touch as we lean against the mirror wall together. We've been traveling slowly, but my heart starts to pound like I've been running for miles. I look over at Abel. He has one finger on the reload button, but his eyes are on me. He doesn't look away when I lock eyes with him. Instead, he maintains steady eye contact. Any other time, I'd feel embarrassed and drop my gaze, but for some reason, I can't draw my attention from him. 

My stomach twists as he gives me a faint smile, his eyes crinkling just the slightest bit. I have to distract myself from him or my stomach will do a full flip.

I tear my eyes away and glance at my LED display. Three bullets left, but since we have time I might as well reload. I press the reload button as well and we both cast looks down either side of the mirror maze.

The hint of a green light dances across one of the mirrors in front of us. I jerk my head towards it and Abel follows my look. A few seconds later, the green light passes by again. Abel fires into the mirror and a dwindling sound plays from behind us. The mirror must have been reflecting the kid's light. Interestingly, the laser works to tag even when bounced against a mirror.

"Shit!" the boy screeches and runs out into the open where a second dwindling sound plays. He screeches even higher and runs into the plants, sending four kids running out into the corridors. 

"Just shoot, (Y/N), it's free game," Abel says as he hikes his sniper to his shoulder and fires at the pack of teens. One of the teenage girl's shoulders gets hit and she turns with a hateful glare towards the mirror maze. A boy I assume to be her partner reaches out and grabs her arm, trying to pull her back towards the stairs to the castle, but she yanks her arm from his grasp and raises her laser rifle. She fires at Abel, who ducks just fast enough to dodge her first shot. When she fires again, she hits his right shoulder. I peer out from the corner of the maze and fire my shotgun at her, missing. 

Abel stands and quickly hides around the corner. I fire a second shot and hear the dwindling sound, but I don't dare peer over and see where I hit. 

I fire again and miss. Abel shoulders his rifle and takes a step back before rounding the corner and firing. A dwindling sound plays and the girl's vest goes out. She snarls before throwing her gun to the ground and storming towards the entrance. 

The teen who had let us in earlier walks over to her gun and picks it up, clicking his tongue in disapproval. He's not wearing a vest, so everyone ignores him. 

Abel touches my arm to get my attention. A jolt travels through my skin from where he touched me. The sound of lasers blasting fills the air around us, but they sound muted and far away as I turn towards him. 

The ultraviolet light casts shades of purple through his hair as he scopes the perimeter. He's lean but his arms have slender muscles as if he's only honed the muscles he uses frequently. There's a commanding air about him. It might only be because I'm completely dependent on him to survive this match, but I enjoy being under his care. It feels safe.

"Let's go scope out the second floor of the left castle and see how the perch on the right castle looks now that more people are out."

I nod and follow as he leads the way up the stairs. A boy rounds the corner and Abel fires immediately, shocking the kid as his chest piece goes red. He tries to raise his weapon but I fire from behind Abel and shoot him in the shoulder. He pushes past us both and tries to run towards the plants. Both Abel and I fire at his back and one of us hits, turning the target red. A brilliant smile graces his lips and I return it with a smile of my own. We have incredible synergy together.

We emerge on the top floor. Across from us sit two boys leaning against the wall. They look like they're trying to scope out targets through the black bars on the window into the corridors below and don't notice us. Abel puts a finger to his lips and presses the reload button on his sniper. My eyes are drawn from his finger to his lips- smooth and inviting. I quickly turn my attention to my shotgun and reload it, trying to force my attention back to the game.

 Once our guns are both full, he aims carefully at one of the boys from around the stairwell. He fires and the boy's back target goes red. His friend frantically turns around and I fire, hitting his center chest piece. 

The first kid who'd been shot takes aim at me. I freeze in place like a deer caught in a set of headlights. 

Abel's hand wraps around my upper arm. He pulls me behind him as the kid pulls his trigger, taking the kid's shot to his chest. He'd sacrificed his target to protect me. My heart flutters against my rib cage.

Abel then fires three shots methodically, hitting each shoulder piece and then the centerpiece in turn. The kid's vest goes out and he whines. His friend gives a wide-eyed glance towards Abel before picking himself off the ground and scrambling towards the staircase on the opposite end of the castle.

"Reloading again, watch the stairwell," Abel requests. I reload before I turn my shotgun towards the stairs and wait. Abel finishes reloading and looks out towards the perch on the right castle.

Suddenly, Kalyani stumbles up the stairs. I raise my gun at her and she lifts her gun in the air. I notice she only has her center chest and one shoulder light on.

"I don't know where Dave is and I'm about to die!" she complains. Abel turns around towards her and lifts his sniper, aiming for her shoulder.

"Don't shoot her, Abel, she's lost her partner somewhere. That wouldn't be fair for us to fight her two on one."

Abel pulls his blue eye back from the scope skeptically. 

"Alright, if you say so (Y/N)..."

He trusts me. 

Happiness swells in my chest, only to be deflated as a shot rings out. The dwindling sound plays from Abel's back target. He whips around and fires into the darkness, but hits nothing. I turn back around towards Kalyani, but she's missing. 

I peer down the steps and see her taking off into the other castle. I raise my shotgun and fire, missing her shoulder light. 

"Fuck, I'm sorry Abel, I think it was a trap," I mumble, biting my lower lip worriedly.

"It's alright. Just don't trust anyone else but me, OK? At least not while we're here."

He's right. It's us against everyone. He's already proven I can trust him and that he trusts me. 

I nod in acknowledgment. He leads us along the back wall of the castle towards the rear stairwell.

"I think enough people are out. I want that perch."

I take my first look at the player count above the entrance door. Six players left alive.

Abel and I trek carefully through the corridors towards the opposite castle.

"Hey, lead the way if you would. Since my back light is already out, I'll take up the rear," Abel suggests.

I step in front and keep a steady pace towards the stairs. As soon as we reach the stairwell, a dwindling sound plays from the plants right across from us. A teenage boy rushes out from the bushes and fires madly at us both. My right shoulder light gets hit by his flurry of shots. I raise my shotgun and fire twice but miss. 

I see the scope of Abel's sniper poke out beside my head. A second later, the kamikaze boy's vest goes out. The kid shrugs and heads towards the entrance.

"Keep going, three people left."

We reach the stairs and begin our ascent. The castle looks bare until we reach the ladder to the perch. A teenage girl waits there with two pistols trained on both Abel and me.

"Looks like I got you this time," she teases playfully before pulling the triggers. 

This time, I don't freeze. I know Abel is there for me. As if in tune with my thoughts, Abel steps forward and pulls me to the side, moving my chest piece out of the line of fire. 

I reach my shotgun around his side and fire at the girl, hitting her shoulder light. She loses her cocky attitude and turns to run. Abel fires a single shot into her back light, shutting down her vest. She pouts as she heads back towards the entrance. 

"Cover for me from the ground, OK?"

"Sure, be careful about your shoulder though!" I respond as he begins to climb the ladder.

A few shots ring out from the castle opposite ours. I look out through the black bars and see Kalyani's single glowing shoulder light and chest light. Dave's glowing shoulder lights pop up next to her in the distance. I fire into the other castle twice, but it's no use. My gun is useless at this range. I lean with my back against the wall and reload my weapon.

"They're hiding behind the bars on the other castle's window. I can't hit them from here," I say.

Abel is silent from the perch. A few seconds later, he fires. The hit sound plays from across the way. I wonder which of the two he's hit. 

I look up at Abel. He's laying prone on the ground looking out into the other castle. The barrel of his sniper sticks out through the low fence of the perch. His single green shoulder LED lights up the left side of his face with a green glow.

Abel fires, but the dwindling sound doesn't go off. It feels strange but at this point I expect him to hit every shot he takes. I look over into the other castle and I can't see either of the other chef's lights.

"They're coming," Abel shouts at me. I barely have time to lift my gun before Kalyani and Dave come up from the stairwell together and fire at me, turning my chest target red. I fire three times in their general direction and hear a single dwindling note. Dave is down to one shoulder light and Kalyani is too. I keep my back light hidden from them as I continue firing. My gun starts clicking as I run out of bullets. I look up anxiously.

Two shots fire, then both Kalyani and Dave's vests go dark. They look quizzically at each other, at me, then both their eyes trail upwards to where Abel is crouching on the perch. He gives a dazzling grin, his white teeth shining purple in the UV light. Kalyani starts laughing and Dave joins her. 

"You didn't tell me you were a sharpshooter," Kalyani huffs playfully as Abel makes his way down the ladder. He jumps down the rest of the way and stands next to me.

"I can't believe you kept me alive," I wonder aloud.

"You did a great job helping me out and listening to my callouts," he shrugs nonchalantly but smiles at me. 

All of us head back towards the entrance. Abel makes sure the group walks slowly so my legs don't start aching. It is amazing how he managed to pull off a victory even without being able to run anywhere. I guess I won too, but it feels more like I was a sidekick to the true hero.

We hang up our vests and guns and filter out of the armory room. The teens from the game are surrounding a scoreboard, looking up with awe. 

"That's him!" one of the teenage girls squeaks. The hoard of teenagers rush over and grab Abel, pulling him towards the scoreboard.

"Dude, you were amazing, look," one of the boys points to the top score of the match. 

"Eighty-six point three six percent accuracy. Twenty-two shots fired and nineteen of those hit. Dude, I never get past fifty percent, much less over that. You're a legend, bro," the kid slaps Abel's back heartily. 

Out of curiosity, I take a look at my own accuracy score. Thirty-eight point one. Feeling outclassed, I step back from the score chart.

"Where did you learn to shoot like that?" one of the girls asks dreamily. I recognize her as the girl who yanked her arm from her partner's grip to try and attack us early on. It's funny to me that she had been so furious before and is now fawning over the man who got her eliminated.

Abel shrugs. "I spent most of my childhood at the range with my grandfather, who was a marksman. I had no idea my experience would culminate in topping the accuracy chart of laser tag. What a momentous accomplishment," Abel jokes lightheartedly. Some of the boys nod, at rapt attention. It's clear topping the chart of laser tag is a true feat, in their opinion.

Once the crowd releases Abel, Paul _hem-hems_ from the exit where he's sitting on a bench waiting for us.

"Sorry, we're coming!" Dave shouts before waving to the teens and bounding towards the exit excitedly. Coming to laser tag has Dave feeling like a kid again. All through the ride back to Hell's Kitchen he pretends to shoot other cars while making laser sounds. 

"Someday, I'm gonna take my kid there," Dave says with a smile. Kalyani brings her hand to her heart and _'aww's.  
_

Aside from Dave's laser sounds, the rest of us stay relatively quiet, until Kalyani speaks up.

"Hey, Abel?"

_"Hm?"_

"Were you in the military or something? I couldn't help but notice the combat boots."

Abel shakes his head. "No, I brought these because Chef Ramsay has a history of having Chefs do physical challenges and I wanted to be prepared."

Kalyani leans back in her seat.

"You've thought of everything, haven't you?"

Abel must have considered her question rhetorical because he doesn't respond and instead looks out the window at the passing cars.

We arrive back at Hell's Kitchen's freshly cleaned front entrance after a short while. Abel once again beats Paul to opening the door, but Paul doesn't seem to mind having less work.

John-Philippe ushers us inside.

"Welcome to Hell's Kitchen, honored guests," JP winks, "I hope you're hungry, as the red kitchen has been cooking up a storm in preparation for you. Come, come now!"


	82. Lunch and a Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chef Ramsay surprises us!

Thursday, July 11th, 2013

In the dining room of Hell's Kitchen, there is a single table set up with five placemats. Gordon is sitting at one of the settings, deep in thought with his face set in a disgruntled expression. When he notices us, he beams, his earlier look almost completely wiped from his face. He waves us over.

"Welcome back, Chefs! Did you have a good time?" 

"We sure did, Chef!" Dave replies giddily as he pulls out a chair to the right of Ramsay. When he sits, he waves into the red kitchen. I look over as I take a seat on Ramsay's other side and see Bella wiggle her fingers back at Dave before getting back to her pans. Kalyani sits next to Dave and Abel sits on my other side.

"The red team should be out with our food in a few minutes. In the meantime, tell me how your laser tag adventures went," Gordon requests as he looks around the table waiting for someone to start.

"Well, we were the final four competitors even going against a big group of teenagers, so that was neat," Kalyani begins, "but Abel and (Y/N) got the win."

"So Abel and (Y/N) were a pair?" He raises an eyebrow suspiciously, "Were you and Dave a pair too?" 

Dave and Kalyani nod at the same time.

"Honestly, Abel did all the work. I just followed along," I shrug, remembering my abysmal accuracy score.

Abel gives me an incredulous look. 

"You were better than I could have hoped for in a partner. You listen well and you were smart about what our next move should be. Just because I've had practice shooting doesn't mean you didn't put in equal effort."

I notice Ramsay narrow his eyes as Abel compliments me. I dip my head, feeling somewhat embarrassed.

Dave purses his lips. "Abel's kinda right, you know. A team is only as strong as the weakest member, and you guys won, so you must be pretty strong! And with your bum legs too!"

"What's wrong with your legs?" Gordon turns towards me with a worried look.

"It's nothing Chef, just exhausted after all I went through yesterday. I should be fine by tomorrow," I blow off his concern, hoping he doesn't think I'll slow down tomorrow's service. A hurt expression flashes across his features before he composes himself. I feel a pang in my chest at having made him feel slighted. 

A moment later, Bella and Red approach the table with bowls of salad.

"First course, Caesar salad!" Bella announces as she puts her plates in front of Kalyani and Dave. She kisses the top of Dave's head before she runs back into the kitchen with a grin. Red drops off Gordon, Abel, and my salad and follows Bella back to the kitchen whilst avoiding Gordon's eyes. Maybe she thinks he'll start critiquing her salad, but he picks up his fork and starts eating.

We all follow his cue and eat our salad. A few minutes later, Bella and Red return with plates of New York strip steaks and set them in front of us.

I chow down on my steak, soothing my ravenous belly. Though I didn't run, my body still had to do a lot of work to carry around the vest and gun for the last hour, so I'm starving.

Lastly, dessert is brought out. This time Taylor and Gina carry out slices of strawberry cheesecake to us all. Taylor squeezes my shoulder after she lays my plate down and I smile at her. She mouths 'miss you' to me and I nod solemnly.

The cheesecake is delicious and fresh, I finish my slice off before everyone else but Dave. Abel pushes his slice towards me. I turn to him with a questioning look.

"I try not to eat too many sweets, you're welcome to my piece," he offers.

Dave looks over at the cheesecake with a pout.

Kalyani is only halfway through with her piece and Gordon is still savoring the last bites of his cheesecake, so I slide the plate the rest of the way over.

"Thank you, Abel," I shoot him a smile and he returns it with one of his own. I notice Gordon's eyes flash to me then over to Abel as I thank him. For some reason, I feel anxious.

I motion for Dave to hand over his plate. He lights up as I cut half the cheesecake and plop it onto his plate.

"Thanks!" 

"It's no problem, Dave," I wave my hand in the air then dig into my cheesecake, trying to quell my anxiety with it's delicious sweetness. 

Once we finish, Ramsay leans back in his chair and puts his hands on his stomach.

"Man, am I stuffed! Well done on the meal, red team," he says over his shoulder.

He stands and straightens out his chef's jacket and beckons for the red team to come join us. Once the red team gathers around the table, Chef Ramsay stands up from his chair and pushes it in, resting his hands on the back of the chair.

"Are you all ready to hear the surprise?" 

"Yes, Chef!"

"Tomorrow will be a big day for Hell's Kitchen, we will be doing red versus blue team menus! Your menu, your food. Let's get one thing straight, you do not want to fuck up when it comes to this service. Since you get to decide what you're making, I expect absolute perfection," Gordon grins widely and rubs his hands together, "three appetizers, four main courses, and two desserts- got it?"

"Yes, Chef!" 

Enthusiasm electrifies us. This is our first chance to show what we'd put on the menu if we were to be chosen as the head chef of 'Gordon Ramsay's London Cuisine'. 

"Well, what are you waiting for, then? Go on upstairs and get to work!"

The red team rushes through the kitchens to get back to the dorms while the blue team stands from the table.

"Good luck, blue team," Gordon says. 

"Thank you, Chef," we respond together.

I feel his eyes linger on me as I pass by with the rest of my team.

The red team has situated themselves on the couch, so we take up the less comfortable dining room table. There are two big notepads on easels waiting to be written on, one next to the sofa and one next to the table. Kalyani takes notepad duty and opens the black-tipped marker, writing 'Apps, Entrees, Desserts' at the top of three different sheets of paper respectively. She flips to the page labeled 'Apps' and waits for us to suggest something.

"We have to put scallop something on there, people love 'em," Dave starts. Kalyani glances at him from the corner of her eye.

"Are you sure we should put on such a simple food?" she asks.

"I mean, they get ordered all the time, and Ramsay likes 'em," he shrugs.

"Scallops are indeed a hot ticket item. Let's try bay scallops with garlic butter, pancetta, pineapple juice, and mango to keep it from being too simple," Abel suggests.

"Aren't those a lot of flavors at the same time?" Kalyani says as she waits to begin writing on the notepad.

"It'll be delicious, Kalyani. I'll show everyone how to make it."

Kalyani shrugs and writes Abel's suggestion down as our first app.

"Alright, what do you guys think of a squid dish?" Kalyani starts.

I shake my head. "I'm not sure about a second seafood for our next app. We should go with one meat and one vegetarian app option to round out the selection."

"(Y/N) is right, we need a well-rounded menu," Abel agrees.

Dave sticks a hand in the air. We look over at him and he sheepishly lowers his hand.

"Sorry, I don't know why I did that, heh. I just thought that our veggie dish should be a salad. Maybe a Greek salad? You know, tomatoes, cucumber, onion, pepper, olives, avocado, and feta cheese?"

"That sounds delicious, Dave," I say as Kalyani writes it on the notepad.

"Alright, last app. What will it be?" Kalyani taps the butt of the marker against her chin.

"Any ideas, (Y/N)?" Abel asks expectantly.

An idea had been forming as we discussed our other options. It might sound like a stretch, but nothing great comes from playing safe.

"This might sound a little crazy, but what about turkey sliders with sweet potato buns?"

Abel leans forward. "How would that work, exactly?"

"Well, we cook a little bacon, mix it with turkey, bread crumbs, and spices then chill it in the fridge. Then we'd cut the sweet potatoes about a half an inch thick and bake them. While they bake, we'd shape the turkey bacon mixture into slider patties and cook it in reserved bacon fat until they're tender. Lastly, we stick it on the 'bun' and slide a toothpick through it to hold it together. What do you guys think?"

Abel grins. "Sounds good to me. Pretty unique. Are we moving on to entrees now?"

Kalyani finishes writing out the turkey slider and flips the page over to entrees.

"How about the classic filet mignon with a mushroom wine reduction?" Kalyani suggests.

"Love it," Dave gives a thumbs up.

"Would a honey-ginger glazed salmon fit well? Maybe with some garlic couscous and carrots cut lengthwise?" I question.

"I like it," Kalyani responds as she writes the dish down, "Do apricot balsamic pork chops sound delicious to anyone else?"

Dave nods fiercely. "There aren't nearly enough pork dishes in Hell's Kitchen. Let's bring on the bacon!"

"So we have beef, pork, fish... we need either another seafood or something vegetarian. Maybe vegan," Abel notes. 

He sits for a moment before he continues. "Vegetable paella. Vegetarian, vegan, and gluten free."

"I agree, definitely a good choice. We'll have time for all of these, right?" I ask, looking to Abel.

He nods. "Guessing from our workload, we'll be spending today and tomorrow prepping for our dinner service. We should have plenty of time."

Kalyani finishes writing and flips the notepad over to the final page titled 'Desserts'.

"How about some sorta cake?" Dave suggests.

Abel frowns. "A slice of cake isn't the most impressive looking thing. We should try a bit harder than that."

"I know it's simple, but what about crème brûlée?" Kalyani posits. 

"It's simple for us, but it looks beautiful to the customer. I think we should go with that," Abel nods, "I have one suggestion of a dessert. Poached pears with a wine raspberry sauce."

I try to picture the dish but come up blank. "How is it made?"

"Well, peel the skin off the pears except for their stems. Then combine wine, water, raspberries, sugar, cinnamon, cloves, and lemon slices in a sauce pan and set it to boiling. After that, put the pears upright in a baking dish and pour the wine mixture over them. Bake it for one hour and baste every twenty minutes. Lastly, take the pears out, set them in a compote dish and pour the syrup they'd cooked in over the top. Easy and beautiful."

"The prep time is a little long, but we should be able to manage it if we time everything correctly," Kalyani says as she writes the final dessert and caps her marker.

"Looks like we're all set-" Dave starts, just as Sous Chef Scott approaches us and puts his palms on the tabletop.

"Good work, blue. I look forward to seeing what (Y/N) can bring to our kitchen. Everyone ready?"

We nod as Kalyani rips the giant notepad sheets of paper off the easel. 

"Well let's get going then, you have lots of prep to do. Ramsay wants to try out your menu first thing tomorrow morning. Can you have everything ready for then if you get an hour of prep beforehand?"

The blue team looks at each other. When no one objects, we look back to Scott.

"That'll work for us, Chef," Abel pushes himself from the chair. We all follow his lead until we emerge back in the kitchens. Time to get to work.


	83. Oh Great, It's You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The interview team finally catches up with us.

Thursday, July 11th, 2013

The interview team intercepts me after we finish prepping for tomorrow's service. I was hoping to relax and be in bed before ten, but it seems they want to bother me for the second day in a row.

Defeated, I follow the crew into the green screen room. 

Janice waits for me to sit down in the chair across from her. She has a wide grin that can only mean trouble.

"We're so sorry to have to pull you in, (Y/N), but you understand the rules of the job," she says with a saccharine tone. I'm reminded of the overwhelmingly sweet smell of the melted caramel and crinkle my nose involuntarily. 

"So, how did you enjoy being the head chef of both the red and the blue kitchen?"

"It was exhilarating. I think I did well considering it was my first time running a kitchen. I learned a lot from the experience."

"What was your most and least favorite part?"

"I enjoyed catching mistakes before they went out to customers, but I didn't like the attitude of one particular chef."

"Ah yes, we were wondering what you felt about Pietro. Specifically, his exit from Hell's Kitchen. What do you think he meant by what he said?"

I'd been preparing for this. 

"Obviously he thinks someone here is sleeping with someone who's helping them get through the show undeservedly. Maybe one of the producers? My first thought was Bella, but she seems to have settled down over the last few weeks. My next thought is that maybe Pietro is just trying to stir up trouble as he seemed to stop caring about the quality of his food he sent up on the day he was eliminated," I shrug.

Janice's eyes narrow.

"Pietro has always been more aggressive towards you and Bella in particular. Any reason why?"

"Because we're both strong competitors and Pietro knew he didn't stand a chance against us. It likely annoyed him to realize we were outclassing him."

Janice scowls as I avoid her targeted questions with ease. I sit up straighter in my chair.

"Alright then, (Y/N), we're sorry to bring this up but we have to ask- we saw you almost faint in the dorm kitchen. As you know, Abel kept you from collapsing then listened to the tragic story of your parent's death," she frowns, attempting to appear sorrowful, "Do you have anything to say about what happened?"

"I'm thankful to Abel for helping me. I was exhausted after such a long day and then realizing the anniversary of my parent's death is coming up just took me over the edge. As long as I get good sleep and don't overexert myself again, I should be alright."

Janice appears bored with my response. She clears her throat before her next question.

"But how do you feel about Abel?"

"He's an excellent competitor and my most difficult competition thus far."

She narrows her eyes further. 

"With all of your closeness recently, it seems like there could be some developing feelings between you two..."

Blush runs to my cheeks before I process what she'd said.

"N-no, it's not like that..." I sputter as I dip my head.

Janice starts to smile. "We've gotten very lucky having Dave and Bella- how wonderful would it be if you and Abel got along as well as they do?"

"It really, really isn't-" I start. 

"Originally, we had thought something completely impossible was going on. Pietro had told us that he suspected something was happening with you and Gordon just the day before he got eliminated. Can you believe it?" she chuckles, but her eyes drill into me, "He had no proof for his wild accusation, of course."

"That's crazy..." I mumble, trying to focus on remaining collected. Pietro had talked to the interview crew? Who else did he talk to? Who is he talking to now that he's out of Hell's Kitchen?

Then an idea comes to me.

If Gordon wouldn't mind me playing it up, maybe this would distract from our own relationship enough so that Janice and the crew forget about Pietro's outburst. Of course, I'm not keen on asking him about another man-even as a cover- so soon after getting together, but it might just be our saving grace until we can get through the competition.

It's not like Abel is terrible company, anyway. Plus, I wouldn't even have to do anything but talk to him. From what I've seen of him, he isn't the type to get touchy-feely.

"So, you and Abel, are we going to get to see more of you two?" 

I look up with a blank expression. It's now or never.

"Alright," I take a deep breath before continuing, "You'll see more of us. I do like him. I just haven't told him yet."

"You need to talk to him, preferably soon. If there's going to be something there, we want as much footage as possible. The competition is already more than halfway done."

I grimace. Of course. She wants footage. She doesn't care about anything but ratings. Romance brings the watchers, who bring the money. 

"Do you think Abel likes me? Is that why you're pushing this?" 

"He doesn't dislike you, that's for sure. Through this competition, he's barely spoken to anyone. It makes it difficult to get footage of him and his personality when he's so quiet. You break him out of his shell, and we need that so people connect to him for more than his looks and skill. But you'll have to talk to him to find out for sure. He isn't very forthcoming in his interviews."

A small smile creeps onto my lips. Abel doesn't like these interview folk either. If we both feel similarly about them, he could be a trustworthy ally.

"Do you guys need anything else?" 

Janice leans back in her chair.

"No, that should be enough. Sleep well."

"You too," I stand from my chair and exit the room.

The rest of the chefs are busy putting the final touches on dinner when I exit the interview room. Taylor is waiting at the dining table and pats the chair beside her own. I sit down next to her.

"What did they want from you this time?" Taylor asks as she tries to balance her fork on the rim of her plate.

"They just asked about my first head chef experience. Well, that and about Pietro," _and about Abel_ my mind recalls. I try to think of Pietro instead of Abel to keep my cheeks from flushing pink again. Did Janice have to go and talk to me so bluntly? She was looking for a reaction. I have to get better about controlling myself.

Taylor looks like she's about to say something when Dave interrupts.

"Dinner is served!" Dave announces as he carries a pot full of chicken alfredo to the table. He serves himself a portion with a pair of tongs then leaves the pot in the center of the table for everyone else to serve themselves. A few moments later, Abel passes out two slices of garlic bread to each of us.

Red and Taylor are sat at either side of me with Bella to Red's right. Across from us sit Kalyani, Abel, Dave, and Gina. Unnervingly, Abel is sat directly across from me. 

"So uh, I know it's been a while, but it's been eating at me. Who the heck was Pietro talking about fucking their way to the top?" Dave asks as he takes a bite of his garlic bread.

Kalyani immediately looks over at me. When I look at her, she drops her gaze. Maybe Janice didn't believe Pietro, but Kalyani seems like she might. 

"I think he was talking about us," Bella says cheekily, "We're the ones who've been fucking, so why not fuck our way to the top?" she winks at Dave who grins widely as he catches her look.

"Ew, gross guys! I'm trying to eat!" Red tosses a crumpled napkin at Bella, who laughs.

"I don't know, I think someone might be having some sorta secret relationship going on," Gina starts, "Maybe Pietro thought Gordon knew who it was and was letting it continue? What do you think, (Y/N)?"

My heart leaps into my throat.

I shrug as nonchalantly as I can as everyone's eyes turn to me. "It doesn't matter, Pietro is gone, let's focus on getting those black jackets. If there's something going on, surely it'll be known before Hell's Kitchen is done."

Kalyani looks away from me and back to her plate. 

"Yeah, whatever it is," she stabs a chicken piece with her fork, "it can't stay hidden for long."


	84. Menu Testing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordon taste tests our blue team's menu~

Friday, July 12th, 2013

The next morning, our sous chefs wake us up early and give us thirty minutes to eat breakfast and line up downstairs. In twenty-five minutes, we're lined up outside of the kitchens awaiting instruction.

Chef Ramsay flits down the stairs from his office. He comes to a stop in front of us and beams.

My mind races with what I'll say to Ramsay the next time I'm alone with him. I start to feel anxious as I consider all the ways I can breach the subject of Abel as a potential cover.

"Good morning, Chefs!"

"Good morning, Chef!" we shout back.

"Are you all excited to showcase your unique menus tonight?"

"Yes, Chef!"

"Good! First of all, I need to try your menu. I'll give critique and suggestions on how you can improve your chances of pleasing the customers and scoring higher on their forms they will be filling out after their delicious dinner. Please take the next hour to prepare each of your dishes for my judging, yeah?"

"Yes, Chef!" 

"Excellent. Your hour starts... now!"

In a flurry of shouts and clanging pans, the blue kitchen kicks into gear. 

Each of us agrees to take over the food we'd suggested. I'm working turkey sliders and honey-ginger glazed salmon, Kalyani is making pork chops and filet mignon, and Abel gets to work on his bay scallops and vegetable paella. Dave had suggested a salad, so he agrees to take over the desserts so that Kalyani and Abel can focus on their meats.

As promised, when Abel is preparing the bay scallops he calls us over to explain his process. 

Whenever one of us appears to be struggling, we assist each other. Though I'm new to the blue team, they aren't abrasive towards me, which helps tremendously with concentrating on my food and keeping out thoughts of my parent's rapidly approaching death anniversary.

In no time at all, Gordon announces that there are five minutes left.

I meticulously plate my food- two sliders on a rectangular plate that fits them perfectly and my salmon on a round plate with couscous to it's left and steamed purple, white, and orange carrots cut lengthwise on it's right.

We set our plates up with apps first, entrees next, and desserts last. The red team finishes plating their last dish the moment that Gordon calls for time.

"To get through this twice as fast, I'm going to be judging both of your plates alongside each other. Don't worry though, there won't be any points. The only winners tonight will be the team that wins service. Just listen to my suggestions, please," he motions for the first two apps to be brought forward.

Up first is Abel. He hands over his plate as Gina hands over hers.

"Describe the dish as I eat," Gordon requests as he forks a scallop.

"I've prepared a spicy-sweet bay scallops dish with garlic, pancetta, pineapple juice, and cubed mango."

" _Mm-mmm_ , delicious. Maybe a little less pineapple juice, but still stunning. Gina, describe your dish now," Gordon pushes away the scallops and pulls Gina's plate towards him. Abel takes the plate and moves to stand behind his next appetizer.

"Chef, I made a chipotle shrimp app on a skewer."

Gordon lifts a skewer and pulls a shrimp off the top with his teeth. Shortly after, he spits the shrimp out into the garbage can to his right and gives a disbelieving look to Gina.

"Did you taste these before you sent them up here?"

Gina shakes her head. 

"I-I'm sorry, Chef, I didn't have time to taste it... They looked fine..."

"Of course they _look_ fine, spice doesn't light food on fire when there's too much of it. That's what your mouth is for. Taste your dishes EVERY time and you'll avoid blunders like this. Either use one fourth the spice you have or make a different appetizer."

Gina bows her head. "Yes, Chef..."

Gordon waves the next two dishes forward. Dave cheerily sets his Greek salad down in front of Gordon.

"No need to explain this one, I can see all the ingredients clear as day," Gordon forks a bit of the salad and eats it.

"Simple, elegant, and pretty. Well done, Dave," he hands the plate to Dave, who grins widely.

"Taylor, what do you have for me?"

Taylor slides over her plate. 

"Chicken and lemon potstickers for ya, Chef," she announces as he picks up a potsticker and dips it in the provided sauce.

"Serve the sauce warm instead of cold and I think you have a hit," Gordon compliments Taylor, who does a little dance as she takes her plate back into line.

I'm up next along with Bella. I push my plate towards Ramsay and heat up a bit as he looks at me. 

"Chef, I've made turkey and bacon sliders on sweet potato buns," I swallow nervously as he takes a bite. I'm not nervous about my food, but the increasing tension between Ramsay and I since his curious look during my dinner service has me feeling lightheaded. Not to mention the impending doom of tomorrow fast approaching.

"Clever idea with the sweet potato buns. I can taste the cheese inside the turkey patty, but I'd still suggest some melted cheese on top for aesthetic reasons."

I grab my plate with a fast, "Yes Chef, thank you, Chef," and return to the line next to my salmon dish. Surely Ramsay will notice something off about how I've been acting, but making sure I don't pass out in the middle of filming is more important. Being around him when I can't say anything to him makes me feel like I'm having either a heart or panic attack.

While Bella presents her dish, followed by Kalyani and Red, I focus on my breathing. Appearing weak on camera would be a death sentence for my dreams of winning. 

Abel, who's standing just ahead of me with his vegetable paella entree, leans down towards me.

"You're looking pale and frozen like you were two nights ago. Snap out of it, (Y/N). You've got this. Remember, your parents are expecting you to succeed," he whispers. He straightens up as Gordon calls for him to bring his dish.

I catch my breath. Abel is right. Mom and Dad both wanted to see me give it my all. Dad was always the type to shoulder any burden, be it something he could have prevented or not. If I get disqualified from Hell's Kitchen over emotions caused by their deaths, Dad will kick his own ass across the Heavenly clouds. A grin flits across my face. I wonder if Dad sent me that mental image just to get me to smile.

Both Abel and Taylor pull back from the pass looking happy with Gordon's judgment. I step forward and slide my salmon plate in front of Ramsay.

"Are you feeling well, (Y/N)?" Gordon asks, peering down to look at me more closely. Of course he'd notice.

I turn my head away.

"Uh, yeah Chef. I'd rather talk about it later if that's alright?" I ask weakly as I look at my dish again.

Without another word, he draws back from me and motions to the plate. I'm thankful he's not pushing me.

"I made honey-ginger glazed salmon with steamed carrots and garlic couscous," I say as he puts his fork into the salmon.

"Perfectly cooked, glistening fish. Well done. The couscous," he takes a bite, "delicious as well. Your carrots, however," he says as he picks up a carrot and snaps it in half, "need just a bit more time being steamed."

"Yes, Chef," I take my plate and head back to the back of the lineup, next to Abel. He and I have already presented our dishes, leaving just Kalyani and Dave with our team's remaining plates.

"Mary, your dish?" Gordon requests.

Red slides her dish towards him.

"I have spring lamb roasted with mint and garlic, Chef."

"Which part of the lamb?"

"It's the shoulder, Chef."

He cuts into the lamb and tries a bite.

"With shoulder cuts of lamb, you have to cook the meat ten minutes longer. Plan for it. Other than that, well done. Your presentation was lovely," he hands her the plate with a smile.

It's Kalyani and Bella's turn at the pass. Kalyani slides over her porkchop.

"I've got apricot balsamic pork chops accompanied by roasted potatoes and asparagus."

Gordon points his fork at the dish.

"Is it supposed to be so runny?"

"No, Chef, I put a bit too much sauce on top and there wasn't time to fix it," Kalyani responds sheepishly.

Gordon cuts into the pork chop and chases his bite with a few vegetables.

"Pork chop is a bit dry but your sauce is excellent. Just don't drown your meat next time."

"Of course, sorry Chef," Kalyani bows her head as she heads back to join Abel and me, leaving Dave alone at the pass with both of his desserts.

"Bella, what do we have here?" Gordon asks.

"I made a stuffed chicken divan with sherry Dijon sauce, Chef," Bella says as she hands the plate over.

Gordon takes a bite of the broccoli stuffed chicken.

"Magnificent, well done Bella. Make it just like that during dinner service."

Bella nods with a smile then takes her plate back into line.

Last up are the desserts. Dave steps forward with the crème brûlée.

Gordon takes a bite without waiting for Dave to introduce the dish.

"Standard crème brûlée, well-executed. Nice work, Dave."

He then gestures for Red to hand over her dish.

"Describe your dish?" 

Red clears her throat. "Ahm, I made Mexican chocolate pots."

Gordon raises an eyebrow as he looks at the dish. In the center of the plate is a miniature cast-iron kettle with a dollop of whipped cream and lemon shavings on top.

"It's cute, Mary," Gordon says with a smile before picking up a spoon and dipping it into the cauldron. Red returns the smile while keeping her eyes on her dish.

"I love Mexican chocolate and you've done it justice here. Perfect."

Red nods happily then takes her plate back. Dave steps forward with his second dessert, the poached pear.

"Tell me about this dish, Dave?"

"It's a poached pear with raspberry wine sauce and some mint garnish."

"It's bloody gorgeous is what it is. Did you come up with this?"

Dave shakes his head then points to where Abel is standing near the back of the line.

"No sir, that'd be Abel. He's always got fancy stuff up his sleeve. I just made it cause he was busy with his other dishes."

Gordon uses his spoon to try some of the pear. He licks his lips after he swallows.

"Amazing and beautiful. I'm excited for how much the customers are going to love this."

He rubs his hands together and steps back from the pass.

"Good work everyone, there are very few changes that need to be made. Dinner service is in another two hours. Finish your prep and get ready for one of the most important nights of Hell's Kitchen so far," when we don't move, he makes a shooing gesture, "Well? Get to work!"


	85. Red vs Blue Menu Part 1/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We try out our menu versus the red team!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, Friday's chapter will be in GORDON'S point of view! The first POV shift in the entire story! I hope you guys like it, I spent wayyyy too long making sure it'd be perfect :P

Friday, July 12th, 2013

We finish prep as the time ticks closer to opening. Since it's our menu, Gordon has us decide our stations. Dave chooses to run cold apps, Kalyani heads up the garnish station, and Abel and I are on the hot appetizer station together. Once we get through apps, Abel will switch off to fish and I'll head over to meats while Dave takes to preparing desserts and floating between stations.

Gordon looks at his watch and leans out over the pass. "JP, please open Hell's Kitchen for Red versus Blue menu night!"

JP puts down a stack of red plates on the nearby countertop and nods to Gordon before heading to the doors and allowing the customers in.

The customers are sat down and given both the blue and red team's menus. They then pick the menu they think looks tastiest and order from it. 

The first ticket comes in for the red kitchen. Gordon calls it out and as soon as he turns around, another ticket comes in for the red team. I look out into the dining room to see what plates the customers have picked, but I can't get a good enough look before Gordon receives another ticket and turns towards us.

"Two top, table twelve. One Greek salad, one scallop!"

"Heard!" both Dave and Abel call out before trading times with each other. A second ticket comes in for us.

"Four top, table thirty. Four slider orders, how long?" 

"Seven minutes, Chef!" I call back. I heat three pans and set the patties in them, being careful not to crowd the pan. 

After three minutes pass, I flip the patties. The sear looks good. I sprinkle some cheddar cheese on top of each of the patties and let them sit another three minutes.

Abel is still busy working on his scallops. Once they're cooked properly, he passes the pan on to Kalyani, who garnishes the plate with mangoes and brings it along with pineapple sauce to the pass.

One Kalyani returns, I pass the patties onto her. She sets them between sweet potato 'bun' slices and pokes a toothpick through the top before bringing them to the front.

Gordon inspects each of them carefully before calling for a waiter to take the tray out to the customers. 

The simplicity of our apps makes getting through the first third of dinner service a quick process. Having Abel at my side helps me to focus on my work. I just have to be sure I show out enough so Abel doesn't surpass me. Black jackets lurk in the back of my mind. It dawns on me that there is less than a week before the black jacket chefs will be chosen. I grip the handle of my slider pan just a bit tighter.

"Do you want to try making the scallops this time?"

"Huh?" 

"Gordon just called out two sliders, two scallops, and one salad. I was wondering if you wanted to try and make the scallops for a change of pace," Abel shrugs as he holds out a tray of uncooked bay scallops to me.

Fuck, I missed Gordon calling that ticket. Thank God Abel was paying attention.

"Oh! Yeah, sure," I take the tray from him. 

"Remember, bay scallops are a lot smaller so they cook much faster. You don't need much time at all on the heat. I'll let you know when I'm ready with my sliders. Be sure to let Dave know he needs to start on his salad when you drop the scallops."

I nod as I lay out the proper amount of scallops for two orders.

Abel nudges me after a while and I immediately season my scallops.

"Dave, start on that salad!" I call out. Dave shouts back a 'heard' as I set the scallops into the preheated pan.

I bring my scallops with Abel's sliders. Dave trails behind me and sets his salad at the pass.

"Dave?" Gordon asks from the pass.

"Yeah, Chef?"

"Come here."

Dave steps towards Gordon. Gordon brings over the salad bowl to the metal end table and tips it, pouring out dressing into the trashcan just below him.

"What the hell are you thinking sending this up in such a state? Is it so hard to just make a new salad if you pour too much dressing on?" He shakes the bowl at Dave, "Is it?" 

"N-no, Chef..." he sputters.

"Then do it! Hurry up!"

"Yes, Chef!"

Dave hops to his station and hastily prepares another salad. This time, it's acceptable. Gordon sends out the table of apps without any further setbacks.

The red kitchen appears to have stalled on a capellini Gina is struggling with. From my spot near the front, I notice her make two trips to the pass and been sent back twice. The red team is starting to fall behind. Taylor's voice can be heard shouting for times and trying to encourage her teammates.

Now that I'm on the blue team, rooting for either side to lose feels treacherous. Those red team chefs are my friends. 

Kalyani reaches over to where Dave is working a pan on her station and flicks a switch. Dave grins sheepishly from where he'd been trying to cook carrots on a cold burner.

I glance over at Abel, who's skillfully juggling three pans, two with sliders and one with scallops. He gives me a small smile from the corner of his lips but keeps his eyes on the pans. 

"(Y/N)? What are you doing?"

Gordon's voice tears my eyes from Abel. I look down and see an empty pan in front of me. I've somehow burdened Abel with all of the upcoming apps. 

"Sorry, Chef," I say, biting my lower lip.

"Staring at your partner doesn't help the food cook any faster. Take one of those pans off poor Abel's hands and help the man, good lord," Gordon shakes his head and turns back to the red kitchen to examine Gina's third attempt at a decent capellini.

"Sorry, Abel," I whisper, turning back to our station.

Abel hands over a pan of sliders with a shrug. "Don't worry, I get it. Stay focused, and stay busy."

I nod as I flip the sliders and sprinkle some cheddar cheese on top.

Eventually, all of our apps are served. Without a word, Abel heads towards fish and I make my way to the meat station. 

I inspect the cuts of meat. Plump filet mignon and pork chops wait to be cooked to perfection. I heat a pan in preparation for my first ticket.

"Four top table seven- one salmon, one pork chop and two filet mignon! Time?"

"Eighteen minutes, Chef," I call out. 

"Heard!" Both Kalyani and Abel shout as they begin working on garnish and salmon respectively.

I sear the pork chops. Once they're seared, Kalyani brings over the apricot balsamic sauce and I pour it into the pan before re-adding my pork chop. I put a sprig of thyme in with the chop as well and set the pan to simmer for twelve minutes. 

Gordon calls out another ticket. Thankfully there's only one filet this time. 

Once I flip the pork chop at the six-minute mark, I sear the two filet mignon cuts from the first ticket in a separate pan. 

"How much longer on the filets and pork chop?" Abel calls from the fish station.

I glance at my meats. "Six minutes!"

After the mignon cuts are cooked, I set them aside and finish the pork chop. I sear the next ticket's mignon as soon as Kalyani shouts she'll be ready with garnish in six minutes.

Dave stops by and takes my pans to the front for Gordon. 

I'm in the middle of finishing the second ticket's mignon when the third ticket comes in for two pork chops, two salmon, and two filet mignon. 

Gordon is missing from the head of the pass more often than usual, and since he's not in the blue kitchen I can only assume he's getting onto one or more of the red chefs for something. 

Please, not Taylor. Please, not Red. Please, not Gina. Hell, please not Bella either. I don't know how I'm going to take slowly losing my friends. 

Gordon returns to the pass and looks out into the kitchens. He locks eyes with me, then looks down at my pan. I follow his eyes and gasp as I notice the apricot balsamic sauce with my pork chops has overcooked and started to burn on the edges. 

My dread deepens as Gordon steps towards me. I remove the pan from the heat and feel my shoulders curl inwards involuntarily.

"(Y/N), come with me," he orders as he passes by me and enters the pantry.

I swallow the lump in my throat, tuck my head and follow him into the pantry, where he closes the door with a slam.


	86. Red vs Blue Menu Part 2/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally get to see what's going on in Gordon's head O:

Friday, July 12th, 2013

**Gordon's Point of View**   


(Y/N) winces as the door slams shut. I wish I hadn't played up the drama for the beady camera in the corner. I'd never expected to take (Y/N) into the pantry, but she seems to be losing her grip.

How could she have been so absent-minded after having completed a service running both kitchens? Something must be bothering her.

"Tell me what's going on. Why are you so distracted?" 

(Y/N) stares at the ground and whimpers. The glimmer of tears forming at the corners of her eyes catches my attention. My heart starts to feel heavy. Where is my beautiful girlfriend's smile? Her spirit? Where did her happiness go? Can I help bring it back?

Without a second thought, I wrap my arms around her and rest my cheek atop her head, closing my eyes. Her familiar scent reaches my nose. Anything I felt about what I saw between her and Abel is swept away as I squeeze her tightly, trying to provide as much comfort as possible.

The tension in her body releases as she wraps her arms around my back and digs her fingers into my chef's jacket. She quietly sobs and her body trembles like a leaf in the wind. I raise a hand and hold the back of her head as she leans into my chest.

What could have happened to cause this? Did one of the other chefs upset her? A flame of anger ignites before I smother it. If something happened that was that serious, she'd tell me.

...Wouldn't she?

Her sobs quiet and she grips the front of my jacket looking at me. Her eyes sparkle with unshed tears. She lets go of my jacket and steps backward.

"Sorry for ruining your jacket, Chef..." she sniffles.

"My jacket means fuck-all to me," I dismiss her apology as I fight the urge to draw her back to me. "Now, can you please tell me what's wrong?" 

She gives me a perplexed glance. "I thought you knew already?"

"Knew what?"

"Two days ago I fainted in the dorms-"

"You _fainted_? Are you alright?"

She nods with a small frown. 

I grit my teeth. She'd fainted. But why? Was she sick? was I overdoing it with the strain of the recent challenges? Was being head chef too much pressure? Maybe I should've been easier on her so she wouldn't push herself so hard to impress me.

What's worse is that I had no idea about it. No one told me. None of the film crew, the interviewers, or even (Y/N) herself had let me know. As an executive producer, it is my business to know. So why was I left in the dark while (Y/N) was suffering alone?

"Abel caught me before I hit the ground. I told him what had me so upset..."

My neck tenses. Abel. 

I had wrestled with whether or not I should send (Y/N) to the blue team in the first place. I didn't feel quite right about sending the woman I love straight into a team full of men. But her strength in the red kitchen was so outstanding that she had been stifling the other girls on the red team. I felt like I had no choice.

I should have known it would be a mistake. Any man with half a brain would see how much of a catch (Y/N) is. She's beautiful, talented, kindhearted, affectionate and intelligent beyond belief. And Abel is a man with talent and intelligence to rival hers. It's clear he sees her as more than mere respectful competition. 

I grit my teeth harder. I didn't think I saw any of that interest returned from her until the last few days in particular. Whatever happened in the dorms has evidently drawn them closer together. 

Abel was there for her. I wasn't. I can't be. Not with the looming camera crew and the fact that (Y/N)'s whole performance on the show would be put on the line if our relationship were to be outed. I feel stuck between a rock and a hard place, while Abel has all the space he needs to move freely and all the time he could desire to pull (Y/N) directly into his arms and out from mine.

"Sorry Chef, I thought they would have told you," she says with confusion. The way she looks at me is subtly different. She's hurt that I wasn't there for her. Even if she doesn't mean to be, she's just a little more distant than before. My heart squeezes inside my chest. It's my fault it's become this way. And I have to fix it quickly.

"I don't watch my own show, love. All I know is what the producers tell me. For some reason, they kept whatever you'd discussed with him a secret." My voice is laden with sadness. I would have stayed up all night watching my own show if I'd have known it'd show me what happened to her. I hadn't been trying hard enough for (Y/N). I need to do my absolute best to care for a woman like her. We haven't had enough quality alone time. When was the last time I had managed to give her a smile that wasn't cloaked in professionalism?

Abel could give her things I can't. He can smile freely at her, encourage her, compliment her, speak to her, hell- even have sex with her without there being a scandal. He is a threat I don't know how to handle.

(Y/N) shakes her head, her hair waving like a moving frame around her picturesque face. I desperately want to pull her body back into mine. Although she stands close to me, she feels distant. I curse myself and the camera in the corner.

"Sorry Chef, I would have told you, but I never had time. We don't have the time now, either," she looks anxiously at the door. 

Back when we snuck away for time together after the pool, she wasn't so desperate to leave me. This is new. She _wants_ to leave. Damn the competition, she should know she's more important to me than this blasted dinner service. The kitchen could go down in flames and I'd be perfectly happy as long as she was. Panic races through me. I feel desperate to keep her around for just a second longer. I need to show her that I'm the man she needs. I'm the one who will protect her and care for her, not Abel. Not him. Me.

"Are you going to be able to continue?" I ask, worry tinging my question. Above all, I want to show her that I care about what's happened to her. That I care about _her_. If this is all I can do right now, I hope it helps. If she can't go back to the challenge, I could make arrangements for her to sit out. I can look after her. She just has to let me.

"Oh yeah, I'll be alright," she says with steely determination. It miffs me just a bit that she's so quick to decline my help, but her passion is undeniable- it's one of the millions of things I love about her. A blossom of pride blooms in my chest. She's stronger than she knows.

"Will you tell me what's got you bothered this upcoming weekend?" I gently suggest. I don't want to push it, but I hope she'll be receptive to letting me back in after everything.

She nods, locking eyes with me as she wipes her remaining tears off on her sleeve. I draw in a deep breath, my heart swelling with joy and relief. A smile tickles at the edges of my lips.

"Then let's get back out there and finish up service," I open the door for her. As she passes by, she straightens her back. That's my girl. I'll fix everything for her. We're going to be alright. I can make things right even with near constant surveillance holding me back.

Though we were only gone for three minutes, the kitchens have started to crumble. I don't know why I expected them to last more than a few seconds without us. I push my fingertips into the center of my brow, closing my eyes with obvious irritation. 

I reopen them and head to the front of the kitchens. Dave took over for (Y/N) on her station, but he's looking overwhelmed. (Y/N) slides in and attempts to help salvage the situation. In the red kitchen, Bella has two chicken garnishes waiting at the pass, getting cold. Alongside the garnishes are two orders of lamb, with no sauce in sight.

"Where is the chicken for this garnish? And where is the lamb sauce?" 

"Chicken is right here, Chef!" Taylor announces as she slides the pan next to me.

"And the lamb sauce?"

I'm met with maddening silence.

" **WHERE IS THE LAMB SAUCE?!** "

Bella jumps, splashing some of her pan's contents onto the stove. Sometimes I question why I do this shit for a living. people are fucking unbelievable. How can contestants who want to be head chefs crumble so quickly? A group of eight year olds would do better preparing meals and keeping organized. I would know, I've seen it firsthand in some of my other shows. 

"Sorry Chef! Thirty seconds!" she grimaces as she stirs the sauce. I groan, throwing my hands in the air. Fucking imbecile.

"What do I always say? Garnish before the protein! Every time! How hard is it to heat up sauce?" A headache forms at the front of my head, pounding harshly against my skull. I bring my fingers back up to the area, trying to rub the pain away. This fucking job is going to give me an aneurysm some day, I'm certain of it.

Bella pouts.

"It's not my fault, Chef. Gina called out the wrong time on her fish, so I-" My eyes widen and I drop my hand. What the hell is she on about?

"Wait wait wait wait, stop. Fish? There's no fish on this ticket!" I scowl as I turn to Gina, who delicately lifts her pan of fish from the heat. 

"Sorry, I must have misheard you," she shrugs feebly.

"I don't know how you could have misheard me when I wasn't even fucking here," I snap. The pounding in my skull gets fiercer.

Gina looks around bewildered. "I could have sworn you said that..."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to stave off the headache brought on by the other chefs' incompetence and exhale slowly. 

"To your right, Chef," (Y/N)'s voice sounds at my side. I turn to accept her pans of filets and pork chops. Everything is cooked perfectly. She's wonderful. I'd love to have her by my side in the kitchen forever. Maybe then with the two of us, it wouldn't be so bloody difficult to keep these donuts in line.

"Well done recovering your station, (Y/N)," I praise. 

She looks up at me and gives me a heart-stopping smile. "Told you I've got this, Chef." 

With that one look, my headache is completely wiped out, replaced with pleasant warmth instead. (Y/N) is recovering splendidly. Thank God. I don't want it to come down to being faced with eliminating (Y/N) and someone else, at least not yet. I know how much it means to her to be in this competition, and I'm going to give her the same treatment as every other chef. If she is determined to be the weakest link, she's out. Neither of us would forgive the other if we didn't treat this competition with honour.

The final tickets come in for either side. 

"Both teams are on their final tickets!" I shout.

First, I read out the ticket for the red kitchen. 

"On order- five top, table thirty-seven. Two chicken, two lambs, and one halibut!"

The red team shouts back with a loud, "Heard!"

I turn to the blue kitchen.

"This is a five top, table twenty-eight. Four pork chops and one filet. Got it?"

The blue kitchen responds with a hearty, "Heard!" as well.

As I work on plating, Abel says something to (Y/N) before he leaves his station and arrives at her side. I twinge as she smiles that same radiant smile at him as he takes over two of her pork chop pans. My hands clench into fists at my sides. I thought I was the only one she looked at with such radiance. And, by God, what did he say to her to get her to smile that way, anyway?

I remind myself that he's the only one aside from the producers who knows what (Y/N) is going through. She could use the help. Abel is just taking off some of the strain from her shoulders since the final order has no fish.

But the nagging feeling doesn't go away. 

It deepens. 

I should have been the one to catch her. I should have been the one to hear what's bothering her. Now both Abel and the production crew know her past better than I do. I'm supposed to be the one she leans on. 

The painful reality is that I know almost nothing about her. Damn the cameras, damn the mics, and damn social conventions. I want to spend a week laying in bed with her in my arms, just talking and getting to know her. But with my schedule, that sort of down time is a pipe dream.

I send out the second to last order by muscle memory alone. My mind is engrossed in jealousy, envy, and possessiveness. If there is a defined line between each of those emotions, I can't seem to find it. Each feeling runs like fire through my veins, quickening my heartbeat to a dangerous speed as I look between Abel and (Y/N).

The final dishes for the red team come in first. I barely even look at the food before I send it out to the last table. I can hardly focus on anything else around me. My heartbeat races faster than it had even while running a marathon. I force myself to breathe slowly. I tell myself that Abel didn't say anything flirtatious to her. They're just teammates. They're just friends. There isn't anything else there. (Y/N) loves me. I'm there for her.

"Get your desserts ready, well done red team," I distractedly say as I turn to look into the blue kitchen.

Abel and (Y/N) have just finished their meats. (Y/N) starts to head up but Abel stops her and takes her pans.  His fingertips slip against hers as he takes hold of the handles. My face reddens with fury that I desperately try to keep pent up.

"Here you are, Chef," he says calmly as he drops off the pans.

It doesn't quell my emotions as I reflect on how competent Abel is in the kitchen. I could always depend on being the true master chef as my greatest talent, but Abel is a force to be reckoned with. And it's not like I can pick up a pan and challenge him to a cook-off just to impress my girlfriend in the middle of filming. 

I feel childish even considering the thought.

Back when I was a boy, I might have tried toying with or insulting Abel. Now that I'm older, I can see through the cloud of jealousy. He hasn't done anything to deserve such treatment.

I plate the blue team's entrees and tell them to get their desserts ready.

Shortly thereafter, the pass starts fills with crème brûlée. The gorgeous pears for Abel's invented dessert follow. I draw a breath in between my teeth as I glance warily at the blond meticulously pouring raspberry wine sauce on each poached pear. His flourishing prowess reminds me of when I was younger. I feel a pang. He's much closer to (Y/N)'s age than I am. Maybe I'm too damn old, could that be an issue as well? I'll have to ask if our age gap bothers her any. God help me if it does. 

Halfway through desserts being sent, JP hands me the scorecard evaluation sheet. I turn it upside down and set it on the pass.

Once the desserts are sent out, I flip my hand towel over my shoulder and clap for everyone's attention. I take the scorecard evaluation in my hand and turn it over.

"Well, you've completed service but not without mistakes. I was hoping for a better showing from both teams. We'll leave tonight's winner and loser up to the customers." 

I look at the scorecard as the chefs watch me at rapt attention.

"Red kitchen, ninety-five percent of your customers said they would be happy to eat at Hell's Kitchen again."

The red team nudges each other, grinning happily.

"However, when it comes to the blue team..." I pause. The room goes silent.

"Once again, ninety-five percent of your customers were pleased with their service, which leaves me no option but to declare both teams as tonight's losers."

A groan sounds out from Bella. Both teams look at each other nervously.

My eyes dart to where (Y/N) is. She's not looking my way. Maddeningly, Abel is standing next to (Y/N), drawing her eyes and looking as calm as ever. Seeing how relaxed he is accentuates just how tense my shoulders are. I crack my neck and let out a deep breath, loosening my muscles. Though I manage to put forth the image of professionalism, inside my chest I feel a ball of hot tension threatening to explode.

"Please select one chef from each team that everyone agrees you'd be better off without. I'll call you all down shortly. Now hurry, we don't have all night!"

I dismiss the chefs to the dorms and head towards my office, trying to concentrate on tonight's service. 

I sit down at my office chair and let out a sigh. The image of her smiling at Abel keeps shoving itself into my mind, overriding my thoughts. 

Sure, I'm used to sharing my wife's affections, but I was always her second and it was thanks to her boyfriend that we got together in the first place. Jealousy was hardly an issue, him and I each had a defined role in our relationships with Tana. This time, however, I have no idea what Abel might want from her- but he's certainly not going to take her from me.


	87. Elimination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who will be headed home on tonight's episode of Hell's Smitten?!

Friday, July 12th, 2013

In the dorms, both teams separate off into different corners to discuss who will be put up for elimination. My team manages to nab the comfy couch spot first- Kalyani and Abel sit in the armchairs while Dave and I sit on the couch.

"I thought we did fine," Dave starts.

"Well, the customers didn't think so, and now we're all here," Kalyani frowns.

"Ninety-five percent is good, guys. You know how people are, nothing is ever good enough unless it's perfect and we did have a few slow patches. People just like to complain," Dave says with a shrug.

"Why did you get called into the pantry?" Kalyani asks, turning to look at me.

"I was a bit distracted and let my porkchop sauce burn. G-" I catch myself before I finish saying his name, "Chef Ramsay wanted to know what was wrong, is all. I picked up from there and finished strong."

Kalyani readjusts in her chair. I wonder if she caught my near slip. "We need to look at the problems we had today. So, (Y/N) burnt some porkchop sauce, what else happened?"

"From what I recall, Dave had an overly-dressed salad," Abel mentions.

"He also forgot to turn on the burner when he was on my station," Kalyani adds.

Dave huffs. "Guys, come on. One salad? One little burner? I wasn't that bad!"

"Well, it is hard to mess up as a floater, yet you still managed to," Kalyani casts a glance at Dave.

"Easy to talk crap from the garnish station," he retorts.

"The garnish station that you had a mistake on!" Kalyani grimaces.

"Stop arguing, we'll just end up hating each other and if none of us get eliminated, we'll be worse off for having fought," Abel interjects before continuing, "Dave did struggle on the meat station when he took over for (Y/N), didn't he?"

I look over at Dave, who appears mildly upset. "Yeah, there was some confusion when I got back."

"My vote is for him, then," Abel concludes.

Kalyani nods in agreement. "Yeah, Dave is my vote too."

"I guess that makes three," I finish.

Dave's lips become a thin line. "Then my vote doesn't really matter."

It hurts me to see him upset after how happy he was today. I'm about to reach over and pat his back when the phone rings. Abel is the closest to the phone this time, so he stands and picks it up.

"Of course Chef, we're on our way. Come on, everyone."

Abel nods in the direction of the stairs. Both teams stand and follow him. Taylor looks over at me with a frown, slightly shrugging her shoulders dejectedly as her team whisper-argues with each other down the stairs.

Both teams line up and wait as Chef Ramsay approaches the front. He clasps his hands together and his eyes trail across both teams.

"Has everyone come to a decision?"

The blue team nods. The red team takes a moment to settle down their whispers before they nod.

"Right then, Kalyani. Your nominee and why please?"

Kalyani clears her throat.

"Chef, we decided to go with Dave. He had some trouble with his salad earlier and when he floated between stations, he wasn't very helpful."

Bella gasps. I look towards the sound and see that she's anxiously watching Dave.

Gordon curls his finger at Dave. "Come forward, young man."

Dave steps forward, keeping his chin up. 

"Alright, red team. Mary, who's your nominee?"

Red looks at her teammates before shaking her head. 

"I need a name, Mary. Who did you decide on?"

Red reluctantly makes eye contact with Ramsay.

"Our team nominated Gina..."

"Alright, for what reason?"

Red dips her head.

"She kinda messed up a lot on apps and threw us all out of whack. If not for Taylor stepping in, I doubt we would have made it to entrees... Sorry, Gina..."

"Right, Gina step forward, please."

Gina steps out of line and stands next to Dave. Bella appears incredibly upset at Dave being on the  block. She looks over at the blue team and scowls. 

"Dave, why do you deserve to stay in Hell's Kitchen?"

"Chef, I've got tons of heart for cooking you know? It's my passion. I know I had a few blunders here and there but nothing I did held my team back too badly."

Ramsay crosses his arms then looks over at Gina.

"Gina, go on and explain why you deserve to stay in Hell's Kitchen."

Gina runs her hand through her cropped hair and breaths out slowly.

"I mean, I fucked up today. I know I did. I'm really sorry, Chef. I got overwhelmed. We didn't fall behind too badly though, Taylor was there for me. I have been improving and I'll keep improving if you let me stay. Please don't give up on me, Chef..." she pleads.

Gordon uncrosses his arms and puts his hands on his hips. After a few moments, he readjusts his feet and looks up at us.

"I've made my decision."

Bella looks truly nervous, her eyes are glassy as she anxiously watches Dave on the chopping block.

He turns and gives her a small smile to try and reassure her. She inhales sharply and covers her mouth to keep from sobbing.

"Gina, get over here," Gordon gestures for her to approach him.

Gina curses under her breath as she reaches where Gordon is standing.

"I'm sorry young lady, but by this point, my head Chef should be able to bounce back on their own. Please hand me your jacket."

She takes her jacket off, revealing her bright sleeve tattoos. Gordon holds out a hand for her jacket, but she brushes past his hand and locks her arms around his torso. Gordon looks surprised but returns the hug with a small smile. 

"You did fantastically, Gina. Keep putting your heart into making your food and you'll make it far in this industry. Good luck," Gordon bows his head to her as she releases him, hands over her jacket, and heads for the door.

"Goodbye, Gina!" Kalyani and Dave shout in unison.

"Good luck!" Bella says, waving alongside Taylor.

"I'll miss you, Gina!" Red whimpers as Gina opens the door.

"Bye, Gina!" I exclaim as the door closes.

Once the door closes entirely, Gordon turns to us.

"Dave, back in line. There are seven of you left. Are we feeling excited for black jackets?" 

We all nod or shout "Yes!"

"Good, because after this coming Monday, two of you will be out and our black jacket team will be decided. Enjoy your weekend, because it's going to get a hell of a lot more difficult from now on, yeah?"

"Yes, Chef!" we respond together.

"Go on then and clean the kitchens, all of you. Once that's done, get some rest. There will be a challenge waiting for you bright and early tomorrow morning."

We head to the kitchens and get to cleaning. Red seems upset about Gina, but she's managed to keep herself from crying. Bella casts angry glances at the blue team, still sour about us having voted up Dave.

Even with the turmoil of voting up chefs for elimination and the loss of Gina, there is still an air of excitement flowing between every chef. If I can make it through tomorrow- the anniversary of losing my parents- I'll surely make it to the coveted black jackets.


	88. Crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our nightmare begins...

Saturday, July 13th, 2013

I jerk my head up from the warm glass surface of the window it had been resting against. The glow of the afternoon sun streams through the window of the brand-new Jeep Wrangler, outlining Mom and Dad's bodies in a ghostly silhouette. They sit at the front, their hands held together on the console.

The back seat has a few wrapped gifts scattered about. A red balloon bops the side of my head as I relax in the back seat. I push it away with a wave of my hand.

Mom sings along to the radio while the sun highlights the side of her face in radiant gold. She looks like an angel.

Dad looks over and beams. He's always telling everyone how perfect his wife is, and it's times like these that I see exactly what he means. They're perfect for each other.

The balloon hits me in the face again and I swat it away, giving it an angry glare. It's then that I notice a flicker of flames through the red tint of the balloon. I rip the balloon to the side and my breath catches in my throat. A slick oil fire on the road just ahead sends plumes of black smoke into the air, peppering the blue sky with inky black clouds. 

Mom is singing, serenading Dad by replacing the words to the song with her own words of how much she adores him. I reach out to grab Dad's arm and direct his attention to the fire, but my hand slips through his arm like it's made of smoke. I try to scream for him to look, but no sound comes out. My eyes well with frustrated tears as I desperately reach out to Mom, only to have my hand pass through her as well.

The sound of tires squealing finally grabs my parent's attention. We all jerk our heads to the right at the same moment that a car rams into the Jeep's passenger side. Mom's head whips back, her terrified eyes locking onto mine as if she can finally see me before the car turns over with a sickening lurch. 

I wake up, gasping and in a pool of my own sweat. My knuckles turn white as I dig my fingers into the sheets, somehow thinking that I can stop the car from flipping if I hold on tight enough. 

Tears roll down my face as I unclench my hands. 

An agonizing sob spills from my throat. I stifle it by squeezing my pillow against my face.

Every year I dream of my parents and every year I see them get taken away right before my eyes. It kills me to watch them die over and over again.

I hear a sputtering sound and remember I'm not alone.

I move the pillow away and glance around the room to see if I've woken up any of the ladies. Bella makes a second sputtering noise followed by a grunt, then goes back to snoring. I glance over at the glow of my alarm clock. It reads 4:27 am.

I force myself from the bed. I've got to do something to take my mind off my nightmare, and I'm risking waking up the other women the longer I stick around. It's useless for me to try to sleep in these drenched sheets, anyways.

The door to the dorms creaks as I push it open. I stagger out and close the door behind me, probably looking like death. My t-shirt is drowned in sweat, my body trembles from the aftershock of adrenaline coursing through my system, and my puffy eyes struggle to see anything in the dim light.

A heavy book snaps closed. Footsteps approach.

A moment later, I'm wrapped in a warm embrace. 

It's the first time I've felt genuine comfort following this nightmare that has been torturing me for years.

This is new. It has to be Abel, but when did he get comfortable enough around me to hug me? My guess is confirmed as I hesitantly return the embrace and feel the warm skin of a bare torso under my fingertips. My cheeks flush red. He's shirtless?

"W-w-where's your shirt?" I ask, keeping my head low to hide both my tears and my cheeks.

"I don't sleep with a shirt on," his mild voice responds, gently moving away from me and dropping his hands from my shoulders. I miss his soothing touch the moment it's gone.

I stand with my head dipped, shoulders slouched and hair in a tangled mess before Abel, who's lean torso glistens with my tears. His simple grey sweatpants with a white rope knot at the front stop just above his bare feet. A few loose strands of his normally perfectly styled hair hang down in front of his face, and the start of a blond five o'clock shadow is barely visible on his otherwise immaculate features.

"S-sorry... were you sleeping?" I mumble.

"Not yet. Couldn't put my book down," he hesitates, his eyes searching the room as if contemplating if he should say the next part of his sentence. 

He locks eyes with me.

"And I thought you might need someone."

My heart skips a beat. He'd stayed up just in case I needed someone? I know staying up isn't that big of a deal for him, but the fact he'd been up even longer than he'd planned just in case makes me feel special.

"Th-that's really s-sweet," I sputter.

"Just keeping my promise. I figured if you were going to faint again, today would be the day it happened. Did you have a nightmare?" he asks.

I look down at my damp shirt and nod weakly. 

"I imagine your bed is in a similar state to your clothing?"

I nod again, keeping my eyes down.

"I w-would change but I already almost woke up the other women," I grumble, wiping away my tears on the hem of my shirt.

"I'll be right back."

He walks over to the men's dorms and emerges a few moments later with his arms full.

"Here," he says as he tosses something at me.

I catch the bundle. It's a dark blue shirt, just a bit too big for me, but it's soft and most of all, it's dry.

"Thanks..." I murmur sheepishly. 

"Go and put it on." He motions to the bathroom.

I head into the bathroom and switch out shirts. The blue shirt he'd given me smells like him- crisp and clean. I emerge from the bathroom to see Abel leaning over the couch, where he lays out a blanket and pillow.

"I would let you sleep in my bed, but it might be strange for you to sleep among the men, I would think. The couch is pretty comfortable. Come, sit down," he flips open the cover and motions to the couch cushion. 

When I sit, he sits next to me.

"Do you need anything?" 

I shake my head.

"You’ve done m-more than enough..." I bow my head. 

Abel uses one finger to lift my chin. He looks at me intensely. In the dim lighting, his eyes are lit from within. The gold flecks surrounding his pupils against his light blue irises remind me of an eclipsed sun. 

"No one deserves to go through what you have. It's the least I can do. Do you think you'll be able to get any more sleep?" he asks, dropping his finger.

I think for a moment and assess my body. I'm aching all over. Even if I can't sleep, laying down might ease the strain. I nod.

He stands from the couch and lifts the blanket for me. I slide in and he covers me with it.

"Good. Get to sleep. I'll be here," he whispers.

I don't have time to thank him before my exhausted body drags me back into a mercifully dreamless slumber.


	89. Slumber Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We should probably say something to Gordon...

Saturday, July 13th, 2013

"You're having a slumber party and I wasn't invited?" Taylor questions as she pouts, rousing me from my sleep.

"Eh? Slumber party?" I ask groggily, cracking my eyelids open. 

Just behind Taylor, who's leaned over me, I can make out Abel snoozing in the armchair across from me, his bare torso rising and falling steadily and a book laying open face down across his thigh. Now that it's brighter in the room, I make out a thin trail of blond hair running from his navel to the top of his sweatpants waistband. 

Last night comes rushing back to me. The dream. The crying. Ruining the sheets. 

My eyes flick back to Abel. His embrace, though short, felt incredible. 

"I just realized you're under a blue sheet from the men's dorm, did you two get up to something?" she asks with barely contained intrigue as she looks over at Abel. She then shakes her head.

"Na, he wouldn't have been reading if something had happened. Unless you bored him to death," she teases, her brown eyes crinkling with a smile. She then leans closer.

"Though I wouldn't blame you had you tried," she giggles.

Her giggle wakes Abel, who snaps to attention, not looking the least bit tired. 

"Good morning, Abel!" Taylor says cheerily.

"Did you sleep well?" is the first thing he asks, ignoring Taylor completely. She purses her lips.

"Yeah, I did. You didn't have to stay out here, you know," I push off my covers and sit up on the couch, stretching my arms over my head.

"I did," he says simply.

Taylor's eyes go wide as she notices me wearing Abel's blue shirt. 

"Is there something you haven't told me?" she squeaks. 

I look at my shirt, at Abel, who cocks an eyebrow and waits for my response, then at Taylor.

"Yeah, actually. Today is the anniversary of my parent's death. I was trying to forget about it, but it seems I can't. The night I'd fainted I told Abel about it, so he was out here in case I needed him," I then address Abel, "Honestly, though, you didn't have to do that," I repeat.

"I'd made you a promise."

Before I can respond to Abel, Taylor wraps her arms around me.

"Oh my God, babe, I'm so sorry about your parents. I wish you'd said something," she laments.

While she's holding me, Abel stands from the chair and heads into the men's dorm, rolling his shoulders. It can't have been comfortable to sleep in an armchair.

"I'm sorry Tay, everything has been pretty crazy for me the last few days. I'll tell you about it sometime soon, OK?" I return Taylor's hug. 

I feel her nodding against my shoulder. After a bit, she releases me and motions for me to stand.

"If you don't wanna explain why you're wearing that shirt to everyone, you should go get changed now. I was the first one awake but the other chefs should be up soon."

I nod as I stand, then head into the dorm bedroom. I snatch up a white undershirt and my jacket and take them into the bathroom. After a quick change, I take Abel's blue shirt and stuff it into my side drawer. I'll have to give it back to him later when people can't question me about it.

While I was getting ready, most of the other chefs have woken up.  At the bar stools outside of the kitchen, Dave serves Bella some pancakes with sliced banana for eyes and a strawberry smile. There's also a mini pancake with one strawberry on top that he slides in beside the main stack.

"For the little one, make sure they get it!" he grins as Bella laughs and nods.

"I'll eat it first, I'm sure they're hungry," she takes the tiny pancake and folds it like a taco, then pops it into her mouth. 

"They say thank you daddy!" she says, rubbing her stomach. Dave beams proudly.

My mind drifts to my Mom and Dad. I wonder how many cute moments like this that they had together when they'd found out about having me. I should have asked them about it. I always took for granted the fact that my parents were still only middle-aged when I graduated. I thought I'd get to share a good portion of my adult life with them being a phone call away.

Tears well in my eyes. I tilt my head up to try to keep them from falling and head for the bathroom. As I reach for the handle, Red opens the door. She has a towel wrapped around her hair and a bottle of lotion in one hand.

She backs up to make space for me to slip inside, then closes the door behind me.

"I was going to get my comb, but you're looking sick. Are you OK? Do you need a glass of water?" she worriedly asks, setting the lotion on the countertop and resting one hand on my back.

I shake my head and lean over the sink, splashing cold water onto my face. The water not only cools me down but also helps to mask my tears.

"Sorry, Red, I'm just having a bad day. I'm sure everyone will know soon enough, so I'll just tell you. My parents died a few years back on this day. I've never handled it very well..."

Red gasps and looks at me with genuine concern. "I'm so sorry! Have you told the producers? Did you tell Ramsay?"

I freeze. I haven't told him much of anything lately. I'd been so caught up in my emotions that I was shutting Gordon out.

"The producers know, Ramsay doesn't. Or at least, he didn't. The producers might have shown him when I told the story by now," I say, guilt lacing my words. What kind of girlfriend am I to expect him to hear about me from the producers rather than from myself? Distracted or not, I need to share these things with him.

Red continues, "They need to know so maybe they won't pick on you as hard!"

I grab a towel and dry off my face. When I pull the towel back, Red is still worriedly watching me.

My mind flits to my fainting, then to Abel holding me outside the dorm room last night. I bring the towel back to my face and try to wipe the red from my cheeks. If the producers showed Ramsay what happened, he might be upset that I didn't tell him first. But if I explain it to him, surely he'll understand it isn't a big deal. Abel was only being kind.

I set the towel on the counter with a sigh. Red continues to rub my back in comforting circles. 

"You should tell Ramsay. I'd go find him now, actually, before he calls us down," she suggests.

Ramsay did let us know we were welcome to talk to him in his office if we ever needed anything. I know if I let my sadness get to me that Gordon would have an awful time trying to remain professional for the cameras. I have to be careful to not let my emotions overwhelm me, but I think I can handle talking to him. 

"Alright, Red," I nod with determination.

I finish up in the bathroom and exit the room. Everyone else is awake now and getting ready for the day. I flit down the stairs before anyone notices me.

Once I emerge into the kitchens, I see Sous Chef Christina at the pass, wiping it down. She glances at me then does a double-take.

"What are you doing down here? We haven't called for you yet."

I stand in the doorway to the kitchen. "Sorry, Chef. I have something I need to tell Ramsay. Can you see if he'd see me?"

Christina thinks for a moment before she nods. "Sure. I'll go see if he has time. Stay right there."

She drops her cleaning towel on the pass and heads to his office, closing the door behind her.

I stand in place, anxiety causing my eye to twitch. Not being able to speak openly with Gordon is killing me.

Christina opens the door to his office and waves for me to approach. She heads back down the stairs and leaves the door open.

I walk over and knock my knuckles on the open door to announce myself.

"Come in," Gordon calls from inside.

I step in and close the door behind me. Gordon is sitting at his desk wearing a pair of black-rimmed reading glasses. He pulls the glasses off and sets them on his desk, then motions for me to take a seat.

"Good morning, (Y/N), why do I have the pleasure of seeing you so early?" he asks, his voice an imperceptible mask of formality. 

"Chef..." I swallow the lump in my throat and rap my fingers nervously on my leg. Gordon shifts in his seat and leans closer towards me. 

"What is it?" he asks again.

"You know the thing I got upset about yesterday in the pantry-" I stop and take a deep breath, "Today is the day my parents died. It's hard for me to stay focused. Usually, I'd call out of work but I know I can't do that here. I promise I'll try my best for you, Chef."

Gordon's eyes flood with empathy. 

"I'm so sorry (Y/N), if there's anything I can do to help please let me know," he says, frowning. 

The distance between us makes me want to scream. I want to ask him what he's thinking about. I want him to comfort me. I want him to hold me and never let go.

"Of course," I manage to remain cordial as my thoughts bring a deep longing for him, "I just thought I'd let you know before the day got started."

Gordon nods. "Thank you for telling me. Go on back with your team, I'll be announcing the next challenge shortly," he pushes back from the desk and stands, reaching a hand out to mine. I know there is more that he wants to say from the way he looks into my eyes. I take his hand.

"Take care of yourself, right?" he says, his voice low. He squeezes my hand in his comfortingly.

The feeling of his hand on mine makes me want to pull myself over his desk and into his arms. If I could spend the day curled up in his lap, sadness might not even have a place in my mind. 

"I will, Chef," I assure him, squeezing back. I then head for the door.

"(Y/N)?"

"Yes, Chef?"

"I still want to see you on Sunday. Would you come to see me as soon as you get up?"

A small smile stretches across my face.

"No problem, Chef."


	90. Portions Challenge Part 1/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pace picks up as we go to compete against other chefs at a soup kitchen!

Saturday, July 13th, 2013

As I head through the kitchens, Christina follows behind. When I reach the top of the stairs, she clears her throat.

"Come on Chefs, Ramsay needs you guys downstairs in the next ten minutes!" she calls out before descending the stairs.

Red, now clad in her chef's apparel, rushes over to me as soon as Christina reaches the bottom of the steps.

"Did everything go alright?"

I nod. "I let Chef Ramsay know what today means for me. Hopefully he understands."

Red smiles brightly. "You'll do fine today! Just be strong like you always are!"

Her confidence in me is endearing. I find myself smiling back at her, even through my anxiety.

The chefs and I file down the steps and line up outside of the kitchens.

Gordon opens his office door and takes the steps two at a time until he arrives in front of us. He grins as he scans the lineup with his arms crossed. His muscles flex as he bounces on the balls of his feet, clearly excited about what he has planned.

"Good morning, Chefs!"

"Morning, Chef!" 

"Today's challenge should lift the spirits of quite a few people who are down on their luck. Hell's Kitchen will be sponsoring its first-ever soup kitchen! Now, don't let the name fool you. You'll be making anything you think will win over the people at the soup kitchen, not just soup," he chuckles.

A warm feeling starts in my chest. Maybe doing something good for others will help me to stay positive today.

"We'll be headed to one of Los Angeles soup kitchens. There you will have one hour to prepare fifty small portions of whatever you'd like. The chef with the highest score wins for their team and will get a special reward to share with one other chef. The team who loses will have to clean the entire soup kitchen. With there being seven of you, the men and women at the kitchen should be in for a real buffet, right?"

"Right, Chef!" we shout back.

"Then let's get a move on, the SUVs are waiting for us!" he claps, and we all follow him out to the SUVs. My heart skips a beat as Gordon joins the blue team in our SUV and sits down right beside me. To my other side, Abel sits giving me ample room, his hand resting on the space between us. Gordon presses his thigh against mine. I enjoy his warmth. It's extremely comforting.

"What's it like being a dad, Chef?" Dave asks out of the blue midway through our ride.

Gordon considers his question for a moment.

"It's like there's a little drunk person wandering around your house, sticking their pudgy fingers in every little nook and cranny and looking for every opportunity to fall headfirst down your staircase. I can recommend baby gates as your number one purchase," he grins before continuing, "But it's incredibly rewarding. You'll love them more than you can possibly imagine. But it's also important to not neglect your partner for your child. A child depends on you, but your partner does too. Never forget that."

"Thanks, Chef, I won't. Bella already has a little girl but this is my first go at having a kid and I want to be sure I do it right. You know, for her and the kids," Dave says earnestly.

"Well, if you ever make her upset, the next day be sure to cook her up a delicious breakfast and serve it to her in bed. I've found that nothing helps to start the mending process after an argument like early morning breakfast," Gordon suggests.

My stomach sinks. How many breakfasts in bed has he made Tana? Meanwhile, I've only been able to eat one meal that he'd made himself for me. I try not to be jealous since I know he always tries his best, but I can't help how I feel. My stomach drops even further as I consider the special bond formed between them by having children together. What if that never happens for us?

"Oh yeah, I already got that down pat! I make a mean breakfast!" Dave says, nodding his head determinedly and stopping my train of thought.

"You might want to consider making a nice breakfast instead if she's already upset," Gordon quips with a wry grin.

The SUV fills with laughter as we pull into the parking lot next to the soup kitchen. A sign reading 'Miracle Mission' hangs over the front of the open door.

Gordon holds the door open for us as we step inside. The building is made of brick and a single story tall, but its wide enough to fit multiple rows of tables. It looks like at it's capacity it can hold over a hundred people. Across from the tables is a long silver food serving station that spans along almost the entire wall. Behind the food station is a door that presumably leads to the kitchens.

"Are we all ready to cook up something delicious?" Gordon rubs his hands together.

"Yes, Chef!" we respond together.

"Go go go! Into the kitchens! If you need a grill, they're out the back door. You have one hour!" he shoos us towards the door behind the food counter.

We rush into the back and try to get our bearings. The kitchen here is very different from Hell's Kitchen. The ovens look ancient and the prep areas are much smaller than usual. There are racks upon racks of ingredients against the wall. I head over to them and look over the food, trying to see if anything will jump out at me. 

A large, beautiful pile of shrimp catches my eye. Shrimp is always a hit. I'll make shrimp scampi with orzo rice. I grab the bag of shrimp and carry it to the prep area. While I de-vein the shrimp, I think about my portion size.

I should be able to make ten small servings per cast iron pan. Thirty shrimp per pan, so three shrimp per person. 

While peeling the shrimp, my mind wanders to my parents. I wish I could talk to them and see what they think of how I've done. It's kind of funny, here I can almost believe they're still alive, just unable to contact me. 

A sad smile spreads across my face. I don't know if I want to laugh or cry. Here at Hell's Kitchen, I've had more interaction with people who care about me than I've had ever since my parents died. After being alone for so long, being supported by another human being feels unreal. I know for a fact Gordon cares for me, but so do Taylor, Red, and even Abel. Heck, even Bella is growing on me. The love I've felt since coming here has been nearly overwhelming.

Once the shrimp are de-veined and peeled, I drop them into bowls to marinate in olive oil, lemon zest, red pepper flakes, salt, pepper, and garlic.

The first thirty minutes of the challenge have passed and all I've managed to do is prepare the shrimp. I raise my hand to my lips to bite my nails, then think better of it. I kicked that habit years ago, and no one wants a chef to put their hands near their mouths while cooking. I have to keep calm.

I take a deep breath, then set out five cast iron pans on the stoves in front of me. I add two tablespoons of butter, a bit of olive oil, and a crushed clove of garlic to each pan. When the mixture starts to bubble, I add the orzo rice and a pinch of salt.

The orzo has to be stirred to be toasted properly, and there's a lot to be said about exactly how difficult it is to handle fifty servings of anything by oneself. 

Once the rice is browned, I add a splash of wine. I stir each pan, frantic to get to the next pan in the lineup before the wine entirely evaporates. Finally, I add two cups of seafood stock to each pan, reduce the heat to low, and cover them. The rice will need twelve minutes to reach the perfect temperature.

I step back from the stove and let out a deep sigh of relief. Finally, I have a few minutes to breathe. I look around at the other chefs working on their dishes. 

Red has multiple steaks in pans, Bella is working on making pasta, Dave is stirring a pot, and Kalyani is cooking with oysters. Taylor, on the other hand, is standing in front of two ovens with her arms crossed, watching intensely. It is then I notice Abel slipping inside from the back door. He grabs a few ingredients and heads back outside. My mind wanders to what he might be making on the grill before I realize that I need to check my rice.

I hurriedly lift the lid and release my held breath. The rice is still fine. It may be slightly overcooked by the time the shrimp finishes cooking, but I have to risk it. There's no time left.

I place thirty shrimp per cast-iron pan and set the lid back on top. 

"Five minutes, Chefs!" Christina announces to us. 

After three minutes, I pull off the lid and check the temperature of my shrimp. It feels alright, but I don't have time to check each pan. I just have to hope that doing everything at the same time means everything turns out the same.

Sous Chef Scott passes out fifty colored plates to each of us. My plate happens to be green. I hope people subconsciously think of my plate as the green "go" light as in 'go on and vote for this meal!' 

I begin plating as soon as I lay the plates out. Fifty plates. Three shrimp per plate. I can do this.

Midway through plating, Gordon steps back into the kitchens.

"What is the first and most important secret ingredient, everyone?"

No one says anything for a while. Dave looks up from his pots.

"Is it love, Chef?" he guesses.

Gordon smiles. "It is indeed, young man. Anyone know the second?"

We continue to plate our food, but no one seems to know the answer.

"The second secret ingredient is schmoozing. Why do you think I greet everyone at the chef's table? It's not only polite, food tastes better when the person likes who serves it to them. Guaranteed fact."

I nod. It makes sense. It's not like our senses are completely disconnected from each other. I know that I enjoyed the steak Ramsay made for me after the very first challenge more than I ever enjoyed a steak before that point. 

He glances around the kitchen, "Everyone ready? Bring your plates to the buffet and set them out. Once all your plates are distributed, go spend time adding hefty helpings of schmooze to your customers who will be voting for you. Come on now!"

As soon as Ramsay steps back out into the main dining room, Abel pushes the door that leads outside open with his back and wheels in a cart packed to the brim with steaming red plates. 

I'm curious as to what he's made, but I don't have time to look. I still have plates left to prepare.

When I finish plating, I get a cart like the one Abel had been using and fill its shelves with my shrimp scampi and orzo sample plate. I push the cart through the door and approach my spot between Bella and Kalyani. 

Bella's yellow plates are filled with what looks to be chicken alfredo with spinach. Kalyani has purple plates with three char-grilled oysters each. I slide my green plates into their designated section of the food buffet. I want to see what everyone else has made as well, but I don't have time as Ramsay calls for our attention.

"Everyone ready?"

"Yes, Chef!" we shout.

"Then let's begin the first-ever Hell's Kitchen soup kitchen portions challenge!" he announces as he opens the front door.


	91. Portions Challenge Part 2/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thrilling conclusion to our portions challenge!

Saturday, July 13th, 2013

Unlike most food buffets I'd been to, the soup kitchen patrons are much more polite and courteous to each other. They line up in an orderly fashion and make their way down the food buffet with gracious thank yous as they pile their trays up with the seven different dishes.

As I hand out my plates, I peer down the food buffet to see what everyone else has made.

Dave has blue plates with some sort of chili on them. Taylor's orange plates have a tasty looking casserole. Red's pink plates have a half a potato with thinly sliced steak resting on it and a dollop of garlic butter on top. At the very far end, Abel's red plates have steaming lobster tails.

After everyone is served, Gordon releases us to walk around and greet the diners to see if we can sway any votes to our side.

I head towards the first table that another chef isn't already at. An elderly woman sits hunched over with a man I presume to be her son. She looks weathered as if she's been through more than most people could ever imagine. 

"Hey, my name is (Y/N) and my plate is green. I made shrimp scampi with orzo rice. I hope you both enjoy it!" I say as cheerily as I can.

"Thank you, dear," the old woman starts with her hazy eyes slowly moving across each portion, "I've never seen so much beautiful food in my life. I almost feel like I'm destroying art by eating it."

I look down at the assortment of plates in front of her. There are more high-quality ingredients in this food than I could afford on my meager salary. It's no wonder the finessed dishes make her anxious about eating them. 

"That's the good thing about food, how good it looks visually often translates to an even better flavor. I promise you, all this food was made to be eaten."

She smiles sadly. "Funny I had to go ninety years before trying most of these foods. Thank you so much for thinking of us."

I feel a pang in my chest. I wasn't the one to think of them, that was Ramsay. Truthfully, I hardly ever thought about the people who would need to visit a soup kitchen; the poor, the homeless, the runaways, the victims fleeing abusers... I make a mental note to be more conscientious of others. These people are some of the most polite and kind people I'd ever interacted with and I wouldn't mind spreading goodwill. 

I continue presenting my dish to the other tables. There is such a huge assortment of different types of people here. From teenagers to great grandmothers and from joyous people to the downtrodden, the kitchen bustles with life. It feels more like a family than a free food distribution center. They treat our food like a Thanksgiving buffet. I notice some tables hold hands in prayer before eating, and other tables share bites of their food.

If only the patrons of Hell's Kitchen could be half as kind.

Seeing all these people enjoying themselves as they dine on food they might have only ever seen on display makes me feel thankful for the life I've lived. Even though I've lost my parents, I'm still working towards my dreams. How many of these people were living normally before one terrible event turned their life upside down? I'm lucky I managed to stay afloat on my own up until now.

And I'm even luckier for having met Gordon. I've been too distant with him. I should have told him about me fainting. I had been too wrapped up in my yearly depression to consider how he would feel. It's going to take me a while to get used to opening up to someone again.

I'm not used to having someone love me. 

I look around the dining room until I spot Gordon's tall frame watching us all from the entrance. This time when he makes eye contact, I smile first. His return grin is even more bright than usual and my heart flutters as I revel in his attention. He's mine. I have to show him that I mean it when I told him I wanted this. 

After a few more minutes, Gordon announces that it's time to tally the scores. Everyone hands in their scorecards. Gordon passes the box to Sous Chef Scott, who carries it into a nearby office.

While the results are being tallied, I walk over to Gordon. I don't have anything to say, but I'm tired of being distant. I want to be close. I want to be in his arms. I want him to know that I love him.

Gordon is standing with his back to me and his palms on the table as he leans over it, talking to a couple. 

When I reach his side, he glances at me then does a double-take as a wide smile spreads across his face.

"(Y/N)! This couple have some incredible news," he gestures towards the pair as he clues me in on their conversation, "Their home is not going to be repossessed by the bank after all. The men and women of Miracle Mission have managed to help them make their missing payments. Isn't it incredible how charity can change lives?" he beams.

The couple turns to look at me, their twinkling brown eyes full of joy. They both look like they've been through some rough times. The man has deep, purple bags under his eyes that contrast even against his dark skin. His wife has stress lines around her full, ebony lips. Yet they still both look beautiful and brimming with life.

"That's amazing, guys! Congrats!" I say happily.

She flips her long, thin braids over her shoulder before addressing me. "Dere be nuttin more important in life dan friends an family. It thanks tuh dem dat we still ave a home fi guh back tu," her thick Jamaican accent sounds rich to my ears. 

It's true. My life was just living one day to the next trying to scrape by. Now that I've come here, made new friends, and even fallen in love, I have so much more to live for. 

"You're so right miss..."

"Cyarra, mi dear."

"Miss Cyarra. Coming here has helped me realize a lot of things I took for granted. I completely agree. There's nothing more important than friends and family," I pause and glance at Gordon while my mind silently fills in the last bit... _and love._

She gives a slow nod as she follows my look, her brown eyes continuing to sparkle. 

Sous Chef Scott taps Ramsay on his shoulder, tearing his attention from the table.

"Yes? Are the scores ready?"

Scott nods, handing over a list to Ramsay.

"Thank you, Scott."

Scott nods again then steps back towards the nearby wall. Gordon touches my arm delicately, directing me to stand with the rest of the chefs. I feel goosebumps raise on my arm where he touched me. 

"Mi have inner luv fi unu time,"  Cyarra's husband deep voice resounds as I walk away. I don't totally understand what he means by it, but it sounds like he appreciated our talking to him. Before I completely break off from the table, I wave goodbye. Cyarra waves back and her husband flashes a brilliant smile. 

Once we're all lined up, Gordon stands in front of us. I dip my head a bit and give him a shy grin as his eyes trail across the lineup.

"I hope everyone had a good time doing something good for the community."

"Yes, Chef!" we shout, startling some of the people into looking up from their nearly empty plates.

"Excellent," he beams, "Are we ready to hear the results?"

"Yes, Chef!"

Gordon looks down at the scorecard.

"I'll go in order from least popular to most popular," he cocks an eyebrow as his eyes trail over the results. 

"Tied for last place are Kalyani's char-grilled oysters and Abel's lobster tail," he says, disbelief tinging his words.

I gasp as I look over at Abel, who dips his head. Why did he make lobster, anyways? Lobster is better reserved for the more 'high class' clientele who don't mind spending exorbitant amounts of money on something considered fancy. Average people tend to want more standard fare.

"Following them is Dave with his bison chili. Directly after that comes (Y/N)'s shrimp orzo."

I feel a twinge as I accept my meager middle placement. Oh well. At least I wasn't last. My damn overcooked rice might have been what screwed me over.

"In third place is Taylor with her chicken casserole, followed by Red's second-place steak and potatoes meal. Which leaves Bella with an astounding thirty-five percent of the votes for her chicken alfredo with spinach, making her the winner of today's challenge! Congrats, Bella!" Gordon begins to clap. We clap along with him and the rest of the soup kitchen joins in. Bella beams with pride as she takes in the adoration of the crowd. Dave might have to help her deflate her head later on.

"Bella, you will be treated to an all-day event at the Los Angeles Dodger's Stadium where you will meet living baseball legends. After that, you'll be treated to a three-course meal prepared by my very good friend Suzanne Goin. She's the head chef of Lucques, one of the biggest restaurant hot spots in LA. You surely won't be disappointed. Now, a prize this good is made even greater by sharing it with someone. Who are you going to be bringing with you?" Gordon asks. I have a feeling we all know who she'll pick.

"Dave. Definitely," she grins. Dave rushes over to her and squeezes her tightly. She giggles as he releases her, but leaves his arm around her waist.

"Right then, that's settled! Go on and hop in your limo outside, you two." He shoos them towards the doors before turning back to us.

"Blue team, bad news I'm afraid. You'll be responsible for cleaning up the entire soup kitchen, both in the dining room and the kitchen," he shrugs nonchalantly. 

"Get into the back and grab your cleaning supplies, it's going to take you an awfully long time to finish and you'll want to get back in time for prep before dinner service. Yes, there will be a service, but no, there won't be an elimination. Let's try to enjoy our last weekend together as a group of seven before Monday's double elimination and black jackets. As for the red team, good work today. Your SUV will take you back to the kitchen," he also shoos them out before turning back to us.

"How many times do I have to say it? Chop chop! Get a move on!" he says, spurring us into action.

I go into the kitchen and notice that Christina and Scott are both waiting with cleaning supplies at their feet. 

"Come on Chefs, let's give these people a spotless kitchen, yeah?" Christina shouts.

"Yes, Chef!" we respond as we take the cleaning supplies in hand.

It'll be tough work, but at least I understand that I'm doing some good.

As I get started on scrubbing a countertop, Abel passes by with his arms full of plastic colored plates.

My curiosity piques. 

"Hey, Abel?"

" _Hm?_ " he says, dumping the plates in a nearby bin.

"Why did you make lobster? You know most of them haven't even seen a lobster before."

He nods. 

"That's exactly why I made it. I knew I wouldn't win, but since Chef was giving us free rein over what we made, I decided to make something expensive that they'd likely not have another chance to try for some time."

That certainly wasn't what I was expecting to hear. Abel knew that he'd lose? 

"So you chose to sacrifice winning just to give these people a new food experience?"

"I wouldn't say that I sacrificed winning, (Y/N)," he says with a chuckle, "But I will say that it was worth missing out on my chance."

Abel then grabs the garbage can and rolls it along behind him as he goes back into the dining room. _He sure is a curious person_ I wonder as I get back to scrubbing.

Even though I got an average rating, I feel much better after spending my day doing something good for people. This was exactly what I needed to keep my mind busy. Wallowing in my despair every year isn't doing anything but making it so I can't move on. 

I just hope that my good mood can persist into dinner service.


	92. Prep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prep before our last service as red vs blue!

Saturday, July 13th, 2013

The SUV ride back to Hell's Kitchen is devoid of Gordon. I figured he'd already headed back to begin preparations for tonight's service, but knowing where he was didn't help me miss him any less. 

After coming to the realization that I'd been neglecting Gordon, I've been wrestling with how I can show him how much he means to me. For right now, spending as much time as possible around him seems to be the best way to make sure he understands what I can't say out loud.

Then, there's Abel. He's intriguing. I've never known someone as selfless as he is. Helping out a fellow competitor with their personal issues and sacrificing his chances at winning to feed the soup kitchen patrons something special... it's hard not to care for him. But I don't yet know how deep that feeling runs. Right now all I can be sure of is that I trust him.

I'd also not missed the subtle glances Gordon cast at Abel during the Red versus Blue menu service, like he's picked up on something. Unfortunately, I can't help him feel any better about that either. Not until this Sunday. This week has been more hectic and filled with tension than any other week thus far. The anniversary of my parents deaths drew me away from everyone, including Gordon. 

I can't even begin to imagine how Gordon must be feeling. I know that he might be upset with me for not telling him what has been going on, he's always there for me when I need him. He proved that when he wrapped me in his arms in front of the pantry camera. I don't know what I did to deserve this man, but I need to show him that I appreciate him.

It becomes apparent how starved for touch that I am. Each time we'd managed to find a way to be near each other has been torturous, considering that I can't speak to or touch him in the way we both want to- I could see my desire for him reflected back in his eyes when we spoke at the soup kitchen. It is almost like Gordon has become even more passionate about us while I've been pulling away.

I look over at Abel, who has a pensive expression as he watches the scenery roll past the window. I haven't put much thought into approaching him. He is incredibly perceptive and would likely see past any lie I tried to tell him. Should I try letting him know the truth? So far, only Taylor knows what's going on. Can I afford to let someone else in on the intimate details of my life? It was risky enough sharing with Taylor, and that decision backfired when she told Pietro a different story than I'd told him. But Abel is quiet. He's not one to gossip or sling insults. I remember him telling us to hold back from fighting so that we wouldn't hate each other during Gina's elimination.

After a moment of thought, I shake my head. It wouldn't be fair to lead him on. I have to tell him what's happening. After all that Abel has done for me, it wouldn't feel right any other way. I hope Gordon isn't angry with my plan for Abel and can understand my reasoning.

My eyes trail down the side of Abel's face to his slender neck. I remember how safe I felt when he told me he'd catch me if I fell again. I remember the relief when he held me the night that I'd relived my parent's death. My heart flutters.

Maybe girls would think he was noble for covering for me. Surely he wouldn't have trouble finding a girlfriend after his sweet sensitive side is revealed when our season is aired. 

My eyes grow wide as my breath hitches.

Maybe he does have a girlfriend.

He barely ever talks about himself, so it's quite possible. He's handsome, and it's a wonder that he'd never been flirty with me, even with all the attention he gives me versus everyone else. My cheeks flush. Oh God. What if he does and I'd made a fool of myself by planting the seed of a potential relationship for the interview crew?

I'll have to ask him this weekend when the cameras and mics are off. I make a mental note to visit him after I talk to Ramsay. I need to return his shirt, anyways, so that's a good enough excuse to get him alone for a while.

The SUV pulls up to Hell's Kitchen. We filter out of the vehicle and head in through the double doors.

"Let's hurry up and get to preppin'," Taylor calls to her team as she leads them into the red kitchen. 

Gordon had already assigned us to our stations for the upcoming service- Kalyani is on meats, Dave is on fish, Abel is on appetizers, and I'm on garnish. It's been a long time since I'd been in charge of the garnish station. I'm inwardly thankful for having a more simple station on today of all days. All I have to do is keep the tickets in order and make sure my garnishes are out before the entrees.

Prep goes by slowly. I can't stop my mind from trailing back to my parents as I idly chop vegetables. The soup kitchen was a welcome distraction, but now I have nothing to occupy my mind but my own thoughts. 

Flashes of the car accident careen through my brain. One second I can see my mother's smile. The next second, her lifeless body. I hear my father's laughter get cut off by the shrill screech of warping metal.

My hands begin to shake. I realize I stopped chopping a while ago. Dave glances at me from his station and notices my hands trembling.

"Hey uh, (Y/N), you good?" he asks, raising one eyebrow. Abel sets down his pans and looks over at me from behind Dave's shoulder.

"Oh, um... yes. Sorry. Just distracted is all."

"If you're distracted you should focus on the aspects of your station that don't require a knife. Just to be safe," Abel suggests.

The knife glints in my hand. He's right.

Setting the knife down, I decide to instead focus on mixing sauces. Thoughts of my parents, of Gordon, and of Abel swirl about in my mind as I stir the sauce.

It's a small miracle that tonight won't be an elimination night. I have to be sure I keep a cool head and not give anyone fodder to use against me. I will make it through this service. No one- not even myself- can stop me.


	93. The Twelfth Dinner Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our final dinner service as red vs blue gets underway!

Saturday, July 13th, 2013

Gordon exits his office and heads down the stairs, coming to a stop in front of the kitchens. I look up at him and admire his crisp head chef jacket. He catches me looking at him and gives a small, nearly unnoticeable smile before he claps for everyone's attention.

"Alright ladies and gentlemen, today is the last day you'll be working in two separate kitchens. Who's ready to bring in the last possible win for the blue or red team?"

"We are, Chef!" both kitchens shout.

"Make your team proud today, Chefs," he says, then turns towards the dining room.

"JP?"

JP pops his head out from beneath the bar.

"Oui, Chef?"

"Open Hell's Kitchen, would you?"

"Oui, Chef," he nods, then opens the double doors for the final day of red versus blue.

The hungry customers flood the dining room until it is full capacity. I glance over my pots and pans, making sure everything is in place.

I just have to get through today. I take a deep breath to steady my nerves.

"Blue team, on order. Table thirty- two scallop, two risotto! Time?" Gordon asks.

"Eight minutes, Chef," Abel responds as he pours out the ingredients for two risottos into a pan.

"Excellent, I'll call out the next ticket soon. Be ready."

Abel nods and returns to his pans.

The sauce for the scallops is already prepared, it just needs to be heated. So that means I'll be standing here without much to do for at least five minutes. I look over my station again, trying to keep my mind busy so it doesn't sink into sadness. As Abel said, my parents are expecting me to do well. And as Gordon said, I need to take care of myself.

In the meantime, Gordon calls out a second ticket with two more risottos and a salad.

I rifle through the different containers of sauce that are waiting to be reheated, trying to keep them organized. I pick up a container and turn it so I can read the label. An image of my mother's eyes locking with mine fills my mind's eye. The container slips through my fingers as I go rigid with shock, sauce splattering all over the floor and on my shoes.  " _Fuck!_ "

"What was that?" Gordon peers into the blue kitchen and notices the saucy mess all over the floor and me, "(Y/N)? Are you alright?" 

I nod weakly.

Gordon starts to walk over, then hesitates. Instead, he takes his towel off his shoulder and tosses it to me.

"Clean yourself up, then get the mop from the pantry. You should have time to mop it up before your garnish will be needed." 

"Don't worry about that, (Y/N), I've got it. Stir my risottos for me, Kalyani?" Abel asks, motioning to his station.

Kalyani responds with a quick, "Of course," and moves to his station to take over.

Abel thanks her then steps towards the pantry and emerges a few seconds later with the mop and bucket Gordon had mentioned. 

"Thank you, Abel," I say sincerely. He nods, then rolls the bucket out to my station and mops up the floor while I use Gordon's towel to clean my shoes. By the time I'm finished cleaning myself, Abel has finished cleaning up the sauce.

Well, maybe I don't feel as bad as I did before I came on this show. This time, I had comfort to get me through the roughest patches of reliving my parents' deaths. From my friends. From Abel. And most importantly, from Gordon.

Now back on track, I wait until Abel calls for me to heat the sauce. I bring it up to the pass just before Abel arrives with his scallops. 

Gordon checks over the food and wordlessly sends it out to the dining room. I have to stay focused. No more mistakes.

Abel is always on point with calling for garnish, which makes my job a lot easier. I bring up the garnish for each appetizer right on time. 

We make it through apps without another hitch and get started on our entrees. The red kitchen seems to be in their groove, so far I've not noticed anything of theirs get turned away.

One thing that I do notice is how frequently I hear Taylor directing everyone. She'd always been good about times, but now she's sharing that talent with the rest of the chefs, which keeps them all on course. I'm proud of her. Taylor has stepped up her game since I was on the red team. I feel giddy thinking of the two of us in black jackets. 

"(Y/N), where's the mash for this New York?" Gordon asks from the pass, derailing my train of thought.

I take a spoon and try a bite of my mashed potatoes. They're cold. They were on the wrong burner this whole time as I was idly stirring like a complete moron.

"Sorry, Chef! Three minutes!" I shout as I move the mash to a hot burner.

"Three minutes?" Gordon groans, "Kalyani, keep this New York hot."

Kalyani rushes to the pass and grabs the strip steak before taking it back to her station and setting it in a warm pan.

I finish my mash and bring it up with Kalyani following behind me. She puts the steak up and Gordon tests both of our dishes.

"Well done on the steak, Kalyani," he praises. I dip my head. I have to pay attention or Gordon will need to be more angry with me just so people don't think he's playing favorites.

Taylor, on the other hand, has been doing magnificent work. From where my garnish station is, I can see her bringing up perfect meat after perfect meat with gusto. 

"One salmon, two lobster Wellington, and two beef Wellington for this next five top! Time?"

"Twelve minutes, Chef!" Kalyani shouts.

Alright, surely I can do this with no issues. I chop the carrots lengthwise and wait for Kalyani's word before I steam them and heat the red wine sauce.

"Dave!" Gordon snaps. Dave's head whips up from his fish station. 

"Yeah, Chef?" he says as he cranes his neck towards Ramsay, his eyes searching for what Gordon is yelling about.

"Why do I have this salmon way before the garnish and five minutes ahead of the Wellies?" he growls.

"Er..." Dave hesitates before sighing, "I dunno, Chef. I guess I was overeager. I'll cook another one.

Gordon sighs. "Fine, but make sure it's cooked as beautifully as this one. I truly regret having to toss this," he grumbles as he slides the perfect salmon off the plate and into the nearby garbage.

I bring up the salmon and Wellie garnishes at the same time. Kalyani follows with her Wellies and Dave sets his fish up at the pass. Gordon cuts open one of the Wellies then throws his hands up in the air.

"Come on Kalyani, what the hell is this?" he questions as he holds up a grey Wellington.

"It's overcooked, Chef," she cringes as he takes a step towards her.

"If I served this to the customer they'd think I was trying to feed them a breaded rock. What the hell is wrong with you?" he shakes the Wellington as he takes another step in her direction.

"Sorry Chef!" she shouts, then looks down at her trays.

"Well? Where's the replacement?" 

Her eyes go wide as she searches her station and comes up short.

"Nowhere, Chef. I have to start over..." she winces as Gordon's face goes red.

"You better bloody well hope that these other Wellies aren't overcooked so I can at least send those out," Gordon threatens as he turns back to the pass.

He cuts into the other Wellingtons and lets out a sigh.

"Alright, we'll send these out. I really hate to send a half-finished table, but I wouldn't want to waste all these Wellies and their garnish," he motions for JP.

"Let the customers know that their final beef Wellington will be there in..." he turns to Kalyani.

"How long on the re-fire?"

"Ten minutes, Chef!" she responds.

Gordon pinches the bridge of his nose. "Ten minutes, then. God, I hate it when this shit happens."

JP gives Gordon a sympathetic look before he takes the tray to the table.

"Gordon?"

Chef Ramsay turns his head to the red kitchen, where Taylor is standing with a Wellington on a tray.

"I have an extra Wellie, if you want to send that one out with their table?"

"Are you sure you want to use your spare Wellington to bail out the blue kitchen?" Gordon asks, raising an eyebrow.

"For sure, after all, we'll be to black jackets soon so I just see it as assisting my fellow black jackets," she grins, then looks over Gordon's shoulder and winks at me.

Gordon takes the tray. He cuts it open and examines it before he plates it and sends it off.

"Thank you, Taylor."

She nods and hops a bit as she turns around and heads back to her station.

"(Y/N), your garnish will be needed after all, please bring it up would you?" Gordon requests.

I take up my garnish for the Wellie, sliding it up next to Chef, who nods to me in gratitude.

Thankfully, the rest of service is a lot smoother, but I still feel like I failed. How did I manage to have so many mistakes on the freakin' garnish station? This isn't like me at all. How am I supposed to run a restaurant if I can't handle my own emotions? It's been three years now since my parents died and I still feel as terrible today as I did the day I heard the news. 

Gordon pauses wrapping up dinner service to cast a concerned look towards me. I try to smile at him, but my lips falter and fall back down into a frown. I can't stop feeling like I dragged my team down today.

"Clear down everyone. Get those desserts sent out," Gordon directs us.

I head to the dessert station and Dave passes me a bowl of chocolate mousse with a grin. I take the bowl to the glass serving cups and spoon hearty helpings of mousse into them.

When the desserts are sent out, Gordon claps for our attention.

"Nice work everyone. Taylor, you were amazing today. I really saw you step up and take charge. Very excellent, young lady."

Taylor beams with pride as Gordon compliments her service. I have to agree, I heard her voice more than anyone else's in the red kitchen and she really saved us when she had a perfectly cooked Wellie to spare. She glances over at me and I give her a thumbs up.

"However, blue team. I'm sorry, but you've lost your final service as a team. Clean both kitchens, but please don't be too hard on yourselves. Just relax this Sunday and be ready to come out of the gate with flying colours on Monday, right?"

"Yes, Chef!" we shout.

"Good, then red team go on to the dorms and blue team, get to work," he nods to us before he turns from the pass and leaves us to our punishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next three chapters are all about us and Ramsay, hyyype! ;D


	94. We Have to Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally get to talk to Gordon about what all has been going on...

Sunday, July 14th, 2013

I jolt awake from my bed and turn my head to the analog clock on my bedside table. Four o'clock. 

Letting out a low groan, I turn over and pull the sheets over myself in an attempt to try and get back to sleep.

Gordon's words from yesterday filter into my tired thoughts. ' _Come see me when you get up_.' 

The same sentence replays over and over in my head. I want to see him, but I'm so exhausted from the emotional toll I've had to take the last few days that I squeeze my eyes shut. Sundays are the only days we get to sleep in, and I haven't been sleeping well at all.

After twenty minutes of staring at the backs of my eyelids, I let out a huff. Fine. I guess I'm up. 

Would Gordon even be at Hell's Kitchen this early? I think back to when he did one-on-one meetings. He was here by six, but that doesn't mean that he'll be here now. 

I slip out of my covers and get ready as silently as I can. I don a red v-neck shirt and some black shorts. Since I'm not being recorded, I may as well look a little cuter than usual when I visit my boyfriend.

My cheeks flush as I roll the word 'boyfriend' over in my mind. It feels right. 

God, I hope he can forgive me for all the decisions I've been making without him knowing. 

I step out of the dorms on my tip-toes half expecting to see Abel on the couch, but he's not in the common area. 

Silently, I step down the stairs and through the kitchens. The whole building is dark, including Ramsay's office. I wonder if I'm too early, but since I've made it this far, I might as well see if he's in there.

My knuckles rap on the door of his office. I stand still for a while, waiting. When I don't hear anything, I knock one more time, just a bit louder.

"Who is it?" Ramsay's groggy voice asks from inside.

A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips. He sounds so cute when he's sleepy.

"It's me," I say with a hushed tone.

A few seconds pass and I hear the deadbolt on the door click. Gordon opens the door with a drowsy grin.

"Hello, beautiful. You look _quite_ ravishing today," he says as his eyes drink me in.

Gordon looks like he had been napping- a glance over at the bedraggled couch confirms my guess. His hair is disheveled and he's wearing a white undershirt with a pair of navy blue briefs. He gives me a charming grin and my heart soars, and my small smile turns into a huge one.

"Morning, handsome, are you always here this early?" I ask as he steps aside to let me in then closes and locks the door behind me.

As soon as I'm inside, he wraps me in his arms and rests his chin on the top of my head.

"Usually, I try to be here by five. I got here a bit earlier though since I told you I wanted to see you as soon as you got up. I wasn't sure when that would be," his voice still has the signature scratchy sound of sleep to it. I wonder how many people have ever gotten to hear how adorable his accent is when he's just woken up. Not many, probably. The thought makes me giddy.

"I'm so so sorry I couldn't be there for you more, I've been worried sick. Having to keep a facade of not being head over heels for you is turning out to be a more difficult task than I had anticipated," he continues, "It killed me to see you like that. Are you feeling any better, love?" he asks, concerned.

I nod against his undershirt, closing my eyes and breathing in his scent- the faint smell of yesterday's cologne and sleep. I missed this so badly. He raises one hand and runs it through my hair while his other arm squeezes me tighter against him.

We hold each other for a while, both of us silent except for the beat of our hearts and our steady breathing. I have a feeling he'd be content to hold me forever, but I do have some things I need to let him know. Reluctantly, I pull back from him. 

"Gordon, I have to talk to you about something," I start, biting my lip. 

Gordon nods and puts his hand on the small of my back, leading me to the couch. I sit down and he sits next to me, then wraps his arm around me and laces our fingers together on my thigh.

"What is it?" he asks, his blue eyes locked onto mine.

"Did the production crew show you my talking about what happened to my parents?"

His slow nod confirms what I feared. "I had to ask to see it, but I did."

I bite down on my cheek tensely. Well, that's one thing I don't have to explain, but what he saw likely dredged up a few hundred new questions. I had wanted to tell him before he had to find out himself, but it seems I took too long to get out of my slump. But he saw that and he still hugged me so he can't be too upset, right? Or at least I hope he isn't.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you myself. I realize how shitty that was of me to keep something that important from you," I dip my head.

Gordon squeezes me against his side, pulling me closer.

"It's alright, (Y/N). You've been through a lot, and I know talking to me isn't the easiest thing in the world with all the surveillance, especially about something as devastating as what you've had to deal with. I doubt I would have been able to 'keep it professional' had I known the enormity of the pain you've been shouldering."

I nod slightly. It makes sense, but understanding still doesn't help me feel better about keeping this from him. And why didn't he mention what happened with Abel? Surely he saw it, but he glossed over that part entirely. Which means I have to bring up the topic myself.

"I, uhm..." I hesitate. I have no idea how he'll take what I'm about to say. Steeling myself, I continue. 

"So... I'm sure you saw what happened that night with Abel. The interview crew did and asked questions about it. Did they show you that?"

The corner of his mouth twitches as he shakes his head 'no'. "What sort of questions?" he asks, his tone unreadable.

"Well, first they told me that Pietro let them know that there could be something going on between us. I managed to divert suspicion, though."

"Oh? And this involves Abel how exactly?" his fingers on my thigh tighten around my fingers slightly.

"I told them..." I take a shaky breath and look into Gordon's eyes. I wonder if he'll ever look at me the same. I try to hold onto the love I see reflected in his gaze before I go on.

"I-I told them I was interested in Abel to get them off our case," I sputter, dropping my eyes to my lap. They lock onto our hands together. He hasn't pulled away, so that must be a good sign, right? Gordon doesn't say anything for a few seconds. The seconds drag on like hours as I wait for him to respond.

"Are you?" he finally asks.

My eyes widen to what feels like the size of saucers.

"No!" I shout, a little too quickly. Gordon's eyebrow raises. "No, I mean, I _like_ him but not how I like you, Gordon. It's different."

"How so?"

I feel myself blush. I thought he would be upset, but he sounds more curious than anything. 

"Well, he's a good-hearted person. He's smart, and he's good at cooking."

"He was all those things before and I never saw you give him the time of day. What changed?" he asks, idly drawing circles on my shoulder with his finger.

My blush deepens. 

"He... he caught me when I fainted. Then he just, I don't know... From then on, he's been sort of protecting me. Like he watches to make sure I don't mess up and he was even up late last night for me when I had my reoccurring nightmare of my parent's death."

Gordon stops tracing circles. Sadness etches in his features, and I feel his grip tighten. The muscles in his neck twitch. 

"That should have been me. I should have been there for you," the tenseness in his voice is impossible to miss.

I look up at him. I didn't expect that. Is he really mad at himself over being angry with me?

"You can't be, Gordon. Not yet, at least. It's OK, honestly, it is. I know you do what you can for us," I squeeze his hand with reassuring pressure. "And anyway, I don't even know if he's single, so I might have made myself look a fool in front of the cameras," I sigh.

Gordon locks his eyes on mine. "He's not in a relationship, (Y/N)," he states, his voice quieter than usual.

My cheeks flush. 

"Really?"

Gordon nods, his normally warm blue eyes looking icy. 

"We get all that information on the application for the show, remember?" 

My mind draws back to filling out the long form. There had been a few questions about family and relationships on there. Since I didn't have anything to put, I had glossed over those sections.

"Oh yeah..."

Now he's the one looking anxious. I tilt my head slightly as a question bubbles up to my lips.

"What's on your mind?"

His lips become a thin line.

"Does my age bother you?"

I freeze. Where is all of this coming from?

"No, not at all! I like that you're older than me. I swear, it's a positive. You're mature, intelligent, and you have strong personal opinions," I untangle our fingers from my thigh and then re-tangle them into his messy golden locks, "That's why I knew I could trust you when you said you didn't want me to be a fling. You've lived long enough to know what you want. And I know you want me. I really want you too, Gordon," I say sincerely. 

"Then OK."

I furrow my brow. _OK?_

"OK what?" 

"You can date him if you think it'll help keep suspicion at bay. But only if you want to, I wouldn't want you to do it if you'd hate it," Gordon states, maintaining eye contact. I see a subtle shift of some emotion flit through his eyes that I can't quite decipher. Sadness? Anger? ... Jealousy?

I sit in stunned silence for a moment before I feel reality crash around me. Gordon Ramsay just told me I could see someone else. While being with him. Even if it's for a cover, I didn't think it'd go that easily.

"Are you going to tell him about us? Do you trust him?" he questions.

I take a second to get my bearings and try to process what he's said. Gordon's blue eyes are piercing as he waits for my response.

Feeling sheepish, I drop my eyes to my lap again and untangle my hand from his hair. "I do trust him. And I think I'll have to tell him. He's too perceptive and besides that, he is a good man. I wouldn't want to hurt him."

Gordon raises his hand from my thigh. He takes my cheek in his palm and turns me to look at him fully.

"Now that I know the plan, we need to know what Abel wants. Once you talk to him, would you come to see me again just to let me know what went on?"

I nod. "Of course. I..." I pause and pull myself into his lap. He wraps his arm around my back and rests his other hand on my thigh. 

"I'm sorry I was so distant with you recently. You deserve so much more than that, Gordon. I know I said that already, but I feel like I need to say it again. I'm so, so sorr-" he cuts me off with a finger to my lips.

"It's alright, (Y/N). I know you've been overwhelmed, you wouldn't have fainted if you weren't. You don't have to apologize." He removes his finger from my lips and strokes my cheek with his knuckles. 

I nod. The moments we steal together are fleeting, yet intoxicating. It kills me for him to be so close yet so unreachable ninety percent of the time. 

"You haven't been getting much sleep," he says as his knuckles run under the bags beneath my eyes.

"Don't worry about it. I'll recover," I mumble, feeling tired all of the sudden.

"Would you like to sleep with me?" he asks, tracing my lips. 

My heart skips a beat as a small grin forms on my face.

"Oh hush, you, I mean _actually_ sleep," he snickers, but leans forward still and kisses me lightly. I kiss him back and he takes my lower lip between his teeth temptingly. Butterflies stir in my stomach, hoping that he takes things further, but he breaks off the kiss with a teasing glance at my lips.

"I would _love_ to sleep with you," I start, "but what if someone notices me gone that long?" 

Golden strands of his hair hang lazily over his forehead as he smirks. "Did anyone see you leaving?"

I shake my head.

"Then you could have been doing any number of things. I'm sure we'll think of something. For now," he wraps his arms around me and lays us both down on the couch, "let's get some sleep."

It's a snug fit, Gordon isn't exactly a small man. My head rests on his bicep while his other hand curls around my chest. He wraps his leg over mine and squeezes me to him possessively. 

"I adore you so insanely much, my darling. Sweet dreams," he mumbles sleepily.

"Goodnight, Gordon. I love you too," I purr as I scoot further into his embrace.

Never in my life have I felt so secure before. All of my worries fade away as I listen to his breathing slow to the steady rhythm of sleep. 

This is where I'm meant to be.


	95. (*)I'm Hers, She's Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordon and (Y/N) FINALLY get together ;)

Sunday, July 14th, 2013

**Gordon's POV**

**... also, smut**

I'd been admiring (Y/N)'s sleeping form in my arms for some time now. It's the first time we've slept next to each other, and I treasure every second of it. She looks beautiful and peaceful curled up against me. The warmth from her body is so soothing that I'm surprised I didn't sleep through the entire morning. 

My worries about losing her to Abel seemed to clear up during our nap together. How foolish was I to think that she'd been pulling away due to her proximity to Abel? She'd been going through one of the most awful times of her life, it makes sense that she'd be distant. 

Even still, giving her permission to date Abel didn't come lightly. In fact, my entire being protested as I said it. 

She wanted this for a cover of our relationship to get us through the rest of the show, but there is a very real possibility that she'll fall in love with him, even if she doesn't mean to. Surely I can handle the jealousy, I've been in an open relationship for more than a decade. But (Y/N) hasn't had any experience with having multiple partners, and having all of this happen while we can't openly discuss what we're truly feeling six of the seven days in the week has me feeling some doubt.

It is in my nature to be possessive and covet the people dearest to me, the magnificent woman nestled in my arms being no exception. Looking at her now, my self-confidence surges back. I can handle this, I have the wisdom and personal experience to know that love isn't a finite thing, just like my love expanded from my wife to my children and then to my precious (Y/N).

If anything happens... we'll cross that particular bridge when we come to it. 

For now, my eyes trail down her body. Past her red v-neck that drops just low enough to be a tease, she's wearing a sexy pair of black shorts. I'd never seen her wear shorts before, and damn, does she look absolutely stunning in them. 

A fire sparks to life in my stomach. I need to know that she understands she's mine. I may be willing to share, but I'm not willing to let her go. Her warm body cuddled up against me only deepens my desire to show her exactly why she _belongs_ there.

The fire burns brighter as I wrap my arm tighter around her stomach and use my other hand to brush errant strands of her hair from her face. What I wouldn't do for this woman...

Unable to help myself, I trail kisses from behind her ear down her neck. She shifts a little, wiggling her butt against me. The tease is maddening.

Her head is turned away from mine, but I see her cheek lift with what looks like a smile. I wonder if she's just grinning in her sleep, but her eyelids flutter and she turns her head to look up at me.

"Good morning, Gordon," she croons, arching her lower body further into me with a pleasurable hum as she turns her head away and stretches her arms out in front of her.

"Morning, love," I caress her cheek with my fingers of the arm under her head as my free hand trails down her side, coming to a rest at her hip. The dark bags under her eyes have vanished, replaced with the cool pink tinge of her blushing.

"How long were you awake?" she asks, flipping over so that her chest is pressed against mine and our faces are mere inches apart. She sets one of her legs over my leg, pulling herself even closer.

I shrug. "Not very long. Just thinking about something."

"Oh? About what?"

A wry grin plays across my face. 

"About how I need to show you how much you mean to me and how much I care for you. I need to show you that I'm yours," I pause, "and that you're mine."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yes."

"How do you plan on doing that?" she teases.

"It's easy. On your knees," I point to the carpeted floor in front of the couch.

Her eyes go wide.

"Right now?" she squeaks.

"Right now," I command, authority naturally layering my every word. After working as a Head Chef for so many decades, authority is second nature to me.

She scrambles from the couch. I sit up with my legs slightly spread and she kneels in front of me with her hands on her knees.

"Is this alright?" she asks.

"Yes, it is. Good girl," I praise.

Her blush deepens. I remember the first time I'd told her that she was a good girl, her cheeks had flushed in the same way. Now, seeing her kneeling in front of me so obviously enjoying following my commands, I begin to realize that her prowess in the kitchen is likely not entirely unrelated to her submissive nature. 

She seems to relish in following my instructions. Almost like listening to me gives her pleasure.

Tana was somewhat similar. She wanted some direction, but she was also very independent. 

(Y/N) feels... different. It's like she not only desires my guidance, she craves it- as made evident by the fact that she's still kneeling in front of me, motionless and silent, waiting for me to speak.

"You're going to listen to me and follow my every word, pet. Do you understand?"

She nods slowly, her eyes still wide.

"And you will call me 'Sir'."

Her eyes somehow get wider as she nods even slower.

"What was that?"

"Y-yes, Sir."

She looks like she wants to ask me something, but says nothing, her eyes flicking from mine to the ground and then back again.

"What is it, kitten?"

She swallows deeply before she flicks her eyes up to meet mine once more.

"So..."

Her fingers curl into her knees. My curiosity causes me to lean towards her, casting my shadow over her head. She breaks eye contact. I can tell that she's feeling intimidated.

"Nevermind, it's nothing..." she mumbles, her fingers tapping nervously on her kneecaps.

"Even if it is nothing, I want to hear it. Tell me," I request, feeling curious.

"Erm..." she hesitates before meeting my eyes with tense finality, "So you're really not mad at me? I know we've only been together for a few weeks and then this whole Abel thing happens..."

Her fingers squeeze her knees even tighter.

"I don't want to lose you or for you to think that I don't respect our relationship. I love you. More than I've ever loved anyone or anything."

Her face blooms with red rosiness and her eyes glisten with the beginnings of tears. She drops her gaze to the floor. 

"Look at me."

After a few seconds, she raises her eyes to meet mine.

"I'm not mad. We've both had to improvise a lot to keep our relationship under wraps. If this was the course of action you felt would be best for us, I trust you. I love you too, (Y/N)."

I reach my hands down to her and wipe away the budding tears with my thumbs, cradling her face in my palms. She leans into it with a sincere smile and wiggles slightly in place on the floor. It's absolutely charming.

Like she'd said, she likes Abel, but not in the way she likes me. Thinking about it, I doubt she could ever like anyone the way she likes me. She'd spent so much of her life following in my footsteps, in all likelihood, there isn't a single person who could even hold a match to her feelings for me.

Which makes me feel incredibly powerful.

"Thank you, Sir," she coos, drawing my mind back to the present.

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

Her eyes sparkle as she gazes at me, waiting for my command. I notice her eyes trail down my body multiple times before she pulls them back to looking at me.

I smirk. Keeping our hands off each other isn't either one of our strong suits. 

"Strip down to your underwear."

She ducks her head, but complies, removing her shirt and bra first, then her cute little shorts. She's wearing a black pair of underwear this time, with lace around the edges. I take a moment to admire her naked breasts before I issue my next command.

"Come here," I pat my lap, "face me, put your legs on either side of mine and put your arms around my neck."

"Yes, Sir."

She leans forward and places her hands on the couch, then pulls herself up until she's in the position I had requested. Her breasts press against my chest as she wraps her arms around my neck and brings her face close to mine. The way she's sitting, she's now leaning over me, but only just barely. I put my hands on either side of her hips and pull her down. She whimpers as she makes contact through her thin underpants with my length that's begging to be released from the confines of my briefs.

Soon, but not yet.

For now, tantalizing her seems the more apt approach.

"Take my shirt off."

She obeys, lifting my shirt over my head and handing it to me. I toss it to the far corner of the couch as she runs her hands over my chest. It always brings a smile to my face at the wonder she emits when she touches me. It's almost like she can barely believe I'm real.

Which is understandable, since I never in a million years thought that I'd meet someone who is everything I was missing in my life. 

I'd understood why Tana needed her boyfriend. I'm only home every so often, and it gets lonely being alone. Of course, I'm nearly constantly surrounded by people, so loneliness isn't a factor for me until it comes down to the end of the day and everyone else is tucked into bed with their loved one while I'm left to a cold, empty bed of my own. It is then, just before and just after my sleep, that I feel most alone. 

Except for this time. This time I woke up with (Y/N) in my arms and felt only elation. 

Well, looking up at her devoted gaze, a smirk tugs at the corner of my lip. Elation wasn't the _only_ thing I'd felt when I woke up.

I'm not quite sure if she's noticed, but her hips have started gyrating against me subtly. The feeling of warm wetness touches me through the fabric of my briefs where she's pressed up against me, making soft panting sounds as her eyes squint in delight. It seems she's lost somewhere in a satisfying daze of sleepy lustfulness.

My body, which had already been responding to her since I'd woken up, is now fully aching. My fingertips slide down her hips and across her perfect thighs, sending little shivers coursing through her.

I move one hand and wrap it around the back of her neck, drawing her down to where her ear is next to my lips.

"You'll always be taken care of, love. You don't have to worry about anything. Just be mine, and everything else will fall into place. I promise, baby."

She nods before letting out a quiet, "Yes, Sir. Thank you. I love you."

I kiss her earlobe as I move one hand to release myself, finally. She kneels into the couch to allow my hand to slip between us and pull out my length. She takes one arm from around me and uses her fingers to pull her underwear to the side, her eyes full of anticipation.

"I love you too, baby."

With that, I push myself into her. Her tightness envelops me, warm wetness greeting me as I enter.

Being underneath her, I don't have much leverage. She takes over, raising herself and sliding back down slowly. I feel her pussy lips stretch around my length as she uses my shoulders to push herself up then slides down even further, wiggling her hips until she has my full length inside of her.

She sits like this, her breaths coming out in little pants. 

"I love how much you fill me up, it feels like you belong there. I wish I could have you inside me always," she says, her words laden with yearning. 

"And I wish I could be there always," I respond honestly, the sensations of her completely surrounding me flooding my senses with a hunger for more. 

I wrap my arms around her thighs and stand from the couch, not separating our bodies but still eliciting a gasp from her as I carry her over to my desk.

She hums with pleasure when I kick my office chair away from the desk and lay her down across the mahogany surface. 

How many times have I daydreamed about making love to my girlfriend across this desk? After Pietro interrupted us the first time we spent together, I'd not had a chance to fulfill those daydreams. 

Looking down at her naked body, her arms splayed out across the desk I'd remembered to clear off before our meeting, my heart surges.

She looks more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. My daydreams couldn't hold a candle to her effervescence. She gazes up at me from behind long eyelashes, her lips parted slightly and her skin tinted pink, not from blushing this time but because both of our body temperatures have raised with sheer lust.

"Don't cum until I tell you that you can. Promise me."

She hesitates as if considering if she can keep such a promise. After a few moments, she nods.

"I promise."

I hold my arms out at level with her knees.

"Put your legs across my arms. Now."

She places her soft legs across the crook of each of my arms. I wrap my hands around each of her knees and spread her legs.

"Good girl."

She whimpers appreciatively as I begin to drive into her, holding her open further and bending down to kiss her, her knees coming to the sides of her head as our lips make contact. 

There is an eagerness to the way she kisses me, her passion flowing into each kiss between short breaths. She wraps her arms around my back and pulls me deeper into her, causing me to break the kiss as a low groan starts in the back of my throat.

"Fuck, baby, you feel incredible," I manage to say, my voice sounding husky. She curls her fingers into my lower back appreciatively. 

"You do too, Sir," she purrs, kicking her feet slightly, looking adorable. 

God, what I wouldn't give to have more time with her. I remind myself that there are only a few more days of the competition, and then she'll be completely and utterly mine. We'll have to tell the world, but then we'll finally be together in a way no one can deny us. 

I release her legs. She gives me a curious glance before I pull back from her. 

"Flip over for me," I order her. She immediately flips over onto her stomach, her feet barely reaching the floor as she stretches her hands out and grabs the front of the desk.

"Don't let go of the desk."

I notice her hair shift with her nodding head. 

Her supple behind is taut with the muscles she's using to stand on her toes and present herself to me. 

Using both hands, I spread her open and bend down, kissing her and sliding my tongue along her slit. Her body shudders with bliss as I work my magic on her until she's an incoherent puddle on my desk, the only part of her that she maintains control of is her hands holding onto the desk just as I'd requested.

Aside from the small whine when I pull back, she lays there, her back rising and falling with short breaths.

I stand and lay my cock between her cheeks. She rocks back and forth across the underside of my shaft, tempting me.

I take one of her butt cheeks in my hand and squeeze it. 

"Stop."

She immediately freezes.

I slowly slide the head of my cock down to her entrance and pause there. I wanted to see how long I could make her squirm, but the first movement she makes is to arch her back and push her chest up, her arms straight but her hands never leaving the desk. The sight of her so sensually posed awakens a deep lust and I ram into her, unable to stop myself.

She squeaks excitedly as my fullness enters her. She's so wet that I slip easily into the deepest parts of her body. Her arms tremble and she collapses, her cheek pressed against the wood and her rapid breath steaming the desk with quickly dissipating vapor. 

I reach around and pull her up against me, pressing her back into my chest and lightly pinching her nipples between my thumb and index fingers. She hisses through her teeth and lays her head back on my shoulder, her hair tickling my chest with each thrust.

"Will you cum with me?" I growl, feeling my impending peak approaching.

"Y-yes Sir!" she moans, reaching both hands behind her and weaving her fingers in my hair.

Her words, along with her squeezing my cock with her orgasm is all the invitation I need before my peak is reached. I struggle to hold her up against me as my knees go weak and instead lay her down on the desk. My cum floods her eager insides as she continues to squeeze me. I pull myself from her and she trembles with one final wave of orgasm, my cum seeping from her with pearlescent whiteness. 

A triumphant grin spreads across my face. 

I'm hers, and she's _all_ mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Two questions:
> 
> 1\. Should (Y/N) call Gordon daddy? I know some people have suggested it, but I want to be sure there aren't too many 'no's.
> 
>  
> 
> 2\. Would you guys want a discord to chat with me more and maybe help with questions I have occasionally about where to take the story?


	96. I'm His, He's Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately we can't stay in Chef's office forever...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discord server is up and ready! I'll be posting all about Hell's Smitten in there, including sneak previews and user polls to decide the direction I take the story in. Please be 16 or older to join! Here is the link- https://discord.gg/sjzZ9cw

Sunday, July 14th, 2013

My breathing is ragged as I struggle to move. Gordon pulls his chair to the desk and sits down. He wraps his arms around my waist and sets me down in his lap, facing away from him.

We sit together with his arms crossed across my stomach for a few minutes, both of us catching our breath. 

Gordon pulls me back to rest my head against his shoulder.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he whispers into my ear. 

"I love you too, Gordon." I grin widely, my eyes still half-closed in a dreamlike state of absolute pleasure.

He runs his hands up and down my sides. 

He pauses and his eyes dart to a clock over the entrance doors that I'd never noticed. 

"Did you know it's almost eight o'clock?" 

My spine tenses. Eight?? Surely everyone else will be up by now, and if they're not, they will be soon.

He continues to run his hands across my body. It's soothing, but not enough to calm my racing heartbeat.

"I have to get going or there will be more questions than they'll have already," I try to keep a frantic tone from my voice.

"Just tell them you were with me," Gordon shrugs.

"With you... doing what?" I respond, unable to keep an incredulous look off my face.

"Say you had a nightmare and you came to talk to me and tell me about it. You'd done the same before, so, understandably, you would do so now," he kisses my shoulder blade, "Say that we talked it over, then carried on to other subjects like cooking techniques since we had some time before everyone else would be up. I doubt anyone else was up earlier than an hour and a half ago, so that's believable enough."

I sink back into him, relaxing. That is a good excuse indeed. Thank goodness he is smart enough to think these things up while I spend my time panicking. 

His fingers glide up and down my thighs. The tantalizing and slightly ticklish touch gives me shivers. 

"That was really hot, by the way."

" _Hmm?_ Which part?" I hum contentedly, my fear of being caught dissipating after hearing his excuse.

"All of it. You turn me on like mad, you know that?" he whispers in a strained voice as he squeezes my thighs.

I grin, keeping my eyes closed but raising my hands to run them through his hair behind me. 

"Oh yeah, I know, Sir," I tease.

Gordon turns my shoulder into his chest and lifts my legs from the ground, laying me across his lap with my legs dangling over the right arm of the office chair. His eyes twinkle as he runs his fingers across my back.

"What do you do up here while we're prepping?" I lean my head into his chest just under his chin and wrap my arms around shoulders.

"I plan the menu, coordinate rewards, punishments, special guests and so on. It takes more effort than one might think to make sure this show happens properly. We've had problems with guest Chef flights on so many occasions, I'm surprised I haven't gone mad from scampering about trying to remedy the situation."

"That doesn't sound like very much fun," I pout.

Gordon chuckles. "No, that part isn't. But I do very much enjoy Hell's Kitchen and helping aspiring Head Chefs to flourish. And if I hadn't done this, I would have never met you," he finishes, a boyish grin gracing his features.

I become suddenly aware of my current state as I feel the warm stickiness of him begin to seep out from me. I quickly hook my panties with one finger and place them back to their original position to try to keep everything in place until I can get to a shower.

"You've gone and made a mess again," I pick on him playfully. 

His grin gets wider.

"I figured I might do that," he winks, "I have something for you."

He pushes the chair back from the desk and opens one of his side drawers. He shifts papers around and motions for me to take a look. Inside there are pairs of different colored boy-short panties, the type that fit snugly and don't betray too much skin. 

"I noticed that your clothes weren't quite up to the task of concealing our activities, so I took the liberty of getting you a few pairs of underpants that would hold up until you made it to the shower. Though I do very much appreciate the black lace you're wearing now," he hooks one side of my panties under a finger and releases it so it snaps back into place with a flirtatious smirk.

I lean over the drawer and rifle around until I find a black pair to match my bra. 

"You think of everything, don't you?" I rise from his lap and pull off the old pair of panties, replacing them quickly with the new pair before anything can escape. 

"When it comes to taking care of you, I do," he says, the candor in his voice is unmistakable. 

"Thank you, Gordon. I try to do the same for you, even though it tortures me sometimes with how untouchable you are when we're in public," I respond wistfully as I pull on the rest of my clothes.

"Trust me, love, it kills me just as much," a pained expression flashes across his face before being replaced by a gentle smile.

When my clothes are in place, I saunter over to where he's sitting in his office chair and lean over, kissing his forehead and providing an ample view of my cleavage. While I'm there, I dispose of my old panties and close his desk drawer. 

" _Mmh,_ maybe you don't need to leave so soon? I could teach you a few new techniques I'm sure you'd find useful... your fellow chefs won't miss you for another hour, yeah?" he looks up at me, hopefulness in his deep blue eyes.

I badly want to give in to his charms, but the longer I stay the more jeopardy I place our relationship in. 

"I can't, honey. I have to go talk to Abel, but then I'll be back. I promise I'll be as quick as I can."

I start to raise myself from where I've leaned over him, but he takes hold of my arm.

"Say that again."

I pause, momentarily confused. "Which part?"

"The pet name, it's endearing. You called me honey. It was sweet."

"I did?" I question, trying to remember having done so. It must have slipped out subconsciously. "I've got to be more careful," I mumble.

"You did, and you _should_ be more careful, but for now please say it again," he requests, his lips curving up into a smile.

"Of course honey," I return the smile and oblige his request, "I'll be back soon. I love you."

He pulls my arm and draws me back down to him for one last kiss before he releases me.

"I love you too, (Y/N). Now go on and hurry back to me as fast as you can."

I head for the door and place my hand on the handle. I turn around for one last look at my handsome boyfriend before I go. He's smiling contently from his seat behind his desk and waves to me. The butterflies in my stomach take flight as I wave back, open the door, and step out into the dining room. 

The door closes with a click. I scan the dining room for anyone who might be practicing cooking this early, but thankfully I don't see anyone.

I smooth out my red v-neck and readjust my shorts before I step down the stairs from his office, through the kitchens, then back up the stairs to the dorms.

The sound of voices chattering gets louder as I move further up the stairs. When I emerge, I see Red, Dave, Bella, and Taylor all sitting around on the couches talking about something to do with the black jackets coming up. I don't listen to much more before I scurry into the bedroom, grab a change of clothes, then rush towards the door leading to the shower.

I put my hand on the doorknob to turn it when the door swings open on its own. 

Kalyani's brown eyes meet mine.

"Where have you been?"


	97. Uhhh...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lets hope that we don't make a fool out of ourselves...

Sunday, July 14th, 2013  


My mind goes blank as I stare at Kalyani dumbly. The chatter of the other chefs begins to fill my head, confusing my thought process.

"Uhm, I had..." my brain struggles to remember the brilliant excuse Gordon had given me. Unfortunately, I've never been the best liar. 

Her expression gets more dubious as I grasp for the words to say.

"A nightmare!" the memory of what he'd said finally dredges up from the depths of my hazy and sex-clouded mind.

"What, so you sleepwalked into the kitchen after getting dressed up?" she says, crossing her arms in disbelief.

Anger begins to well in my chest. Sure, it was suspicious for me to be out here dressed like I am, but her tone rubs me all the wrong ways. It was only last night that I'd had a nightmare, it is perfectly reasonable that I'd have trouble sleeping again. 

"I didn't sleepwalk," animosity seeps into my words, "I had a nightmare and went to tell Ramsay about it. You can ask Red, I did the same yesterday morning. The anniversary of my parent's death has only just passed. When I woke up, I tossed on the first things I grabbed from my drawer and went to tell him what happened."

"Well pardon me for asking, but how could Ramsay help you with this? It's not like he's going to be asking you to cook today," she says, unfurling her arms but still looking at me incredulously. 

Uh oh, what she's saying is true. How could Ramsay help me if today is already a relaxation day?

Kalyani is fixing me with an intense stare that dampens the sound of the other chef's chatter as I struggle to think of an adequate response, clutching my bundle of clothing to my chest.

"Obviously," a familiar voice sounds from the back of the room, "she wants to be sure that he knows her mental state in case she has a repeat of the night she fainted. For her own health, it's best that he knows."

Abel emerges from the men's dorm room as he says this and makes his way over to my side.

I nod, agreeing with Abel's words. I take the time to notice that he's wearing a slim fitting light blue collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark blue faded jeans. Abel's sure tone fills me with confidence, and his presence helps make Kalyani less aggressive. 

Kalyani's gaze flicks from my eyes to Abel's, then back to me. Everyone else has stopped chatting at this point, listening in on the conversation.

"Well, you were gone for an awfully long time. Two hours at least," her earlier boldness recoils as Abel tilts his head, his eyes boring into her.

"Chef said that since I was up he'd help to distract me by teaching me a few cooking techniques. Which worked, by the way. I had felt almost entirely better until you've brought everything back to the surface," I say, trying to force Kalyani to back down.

She looks like she's about to say something else, but Abel crosses his arms. He's not exactly muscular, but the muscles he does have stand out boldly, highlighted by the rolled-up sleeves. She closes her mouth again.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset. I just..." she looks around the room at everyone watching her, then sighs. 

"Nevermind, it's nothing," she submits, then turns and walks into the women's dorm. 

Abel uncrosses his arms and turns to look at me. As soon as I meet his eyes, I realize how perfectly they match the light blue fabric of his shirt. The other chefs start up a new conversation after the door to the women's dorm closes.

"I'm sorry she put you into that headspace again. She wasn't there to experience your grief firsthand, so she can't begin to understand the depth of your sadness," he apologizes quietly, keeping our conversation from the nosy other chefs.

"It's alright, Abel. Thank you for helping me with her," I bundle my clothes under one arm, then reach out and touch his forearm. He doesn't draw away like he had when Taylor had touched him. "I haven't showered yet today, but when I get out of the shower, can we talk somewhere private?"

"Of course. We can talk in the green screen room where they film interviews. No one goes in there. I'll meet you there in thirty minutes?"

I might have imagined it, but Abel seems to appreciate my outfit. He's polite enough to not stare, but between feeling the wetness in my panties and his intense gaze, I can't stop my cheeks from reddening.

"Perfect," I respond as his lips form the shadow of a smile. 

"See you soon," he turns towards the kitchen. 

I head into the bathroom, lay out my clothes, then grab a fluffy towel.

I blush as I take off my clothes and feel the wetness left behind. Gordon was right. Thank goodness he'd gotten extra underwear for me or I never would have made it through such a lengthy conversation.

Washing up doesn't take too long. Once I finish, I put on a black t-shirt and a pair of grey jeans. I had considered wearing my red shirt again, but part of me enjoyed the fact that Gordon was the only one to get the chance to fully admire how nice it made my cleavage look. 

Emerging from the bathroom, I remember Abel's shirt in my drawer. I should probably give that back to him. I rush into the women's dorm and pull out the shirt, folding it then sticking it under my shirt to conceal it. 

The voices from the common area of the dorms start laughing together at the same moment that I leave the room. Taylor looks gleefully over at me and waves for my attention. 

"Come hang out, (Y/N)!" she shouts, patting the seat next to her.

"I can't just yet, Tay, I have something I need to do first," I frown.

Tay pouts. "But it's been so long since we chilled together, can't you come talk for a second?" 

I shake my head, feeling like an asshole. "I already said I'd be somewhere soon, I can't."

Taylor relents, shrugging. "Ah, alright then. Well, don't neglect me for too long, I miss you."

My heartstrings tug me to her, but my obligations carry me towards the hallway that leads to the green screen room. 

"I miss you too, Tay. I promise I'll spend more time with you soon!" I shout over my shoulder.

The hallway to the green screen room is empty and the voices of the other chefs slowly fade until they are mere mumbles.

This is it. I'm going to tell Abel about my relationship with Gordon _fucking_ Ramsay. I'm going to be entrusting a secret to him that could destroy everything. I can't even begin to imagine the full implications of what could happen if word gets out before we're ready.

But I have to trust him. It's the only way this will work.

Taking a deep breath, I turn the knob.


	98. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our long anticipated meeting with Abel gets started...

Sunday, July 14th, 2013

When I open the door, Abel is leaned back in the interview chair. His hands are laced together in his lap as he gazes at the ceiling, deep in thought. His eyes snap to mine and he sits up straighter in his chair.

I walk in, looking around the room nervously.

"You have nothing to worry about. I already checked for cameras and audio devices," he says, reading my mind.

"Thank you," I steady myself as I pull out a chair and sit down across from him.

"What did you need to talk to me about?"

His light blue eyes search my face as he waits for my answer. I feel hot under his scrutinizing gaze.

"I, uhm..." I gulp. Here goes nothing.

"I have to tell you something that is going to sound insane. I'm telling you because I trust you, Abel. I really hope I'm not wrong in doing so," I push my hair back from my face and meet his eyeline.

He waits in silence. 

Guess it's time to rip off the band-aid.

"Gordon and I are together. Romantically."

Abel's eyes widen, but he stays silent.

"His wife is in a relationship with her boyfriend she knew before she met Gordon. He takes care of her while Gordon is away. Because she has a second partner, she allowed him to seek out a second as well. So he's not cheating on her. But it's not like we can tell everyone what's going on."

He nods slightly. "I guessed as much."

Now it's my turn for my eyes to widen.

"What do you mean you guessed?" 

"I've spent most of my life quietly observing. I notice things most people don't. You look at him with more adoration than any of the other chefs. He spends more time around you than with anyone else," he pauses, "And he makes you blush. A lot."

Of course, I blush. Silently cursing my bodily functions, I will my cheeks to cool off.

"I'm glad you aren't going behind his wife's back. But why did you tell me this?" he leans back in his chair and regarding me with calculating eyes.

I rub my palms across my thighs nervously.

"Because I need your help. The interview team is onto us and I had to get them off our trail. So... I told them I was interested in you," I bow my head sheepishly.

"So you need to appear to be in a relationship with me to keep prying eyes away from your relationship with the Chef?"

I nod, raising my eyes to see what he thinks of the idea.

"You've been honest with me, so I'll be honest with you," his eyes are piercing and I feel my breath shorten as he leans towards me. 

"I've been interested in you for some time now. I'll go with your plan and help you keep your relationship a secret, but I can't promise my assistance is selfless."

My heart skips a beat. 

"I don't want to seem like I'm trying to take you away from him, because I'm not. I can see why Ramsay would need someone like you. I'm just letting you know that I will take our relationship seriously, even if you don't feel the same way and it ends after the competition."

His proximity to me makes me wonder if he can feel the heat radiating off my body. He's leaned in enough that I can see the gold flecks surrounding his dilated pupils and each strand of his expertly styled light blond hair is highlighted by the soft light directly above us. His perfect lips are slightly parted while his elbows rest on his legs; his hands together in front of him. 

My mind spins as I attempt to make sense of the feelings that bloom in my heart from the seeds he had unwittingly planted deep in my subconscious over the last few weeks. 

He is willing to help Gordon and me keep our secret. But he likes me. And my being in a relationship isn't deterring him from letting me know how he feels.

Maybe I wasn't ready for this. The emotions that rush over me are powerful enough to keep me from being able to string words together into a coherent sentence, so I remain quiet, listening to the quick thrum of my heart against my rib cage.

"Are you alright, (Y/N)?" he asks with concern, reaching a hand out and touching my knee.

The light contact is the last straw my body can handle. Outside of my own volition, I lean forward and capture his lips with mine. He stiffens momentarily, then melts into me, our lips working with the same expertise as our teamwork on the line together. 

He raises one hand to the back of my head, trailing his fingers through my hair. I pull myself closer to him, wrapping my arms around the back of his neck. 

I have half a mind to straddle him on the chair when he pulls back with a warm, yet calm and calculating expression.

"I can see your cover idea also wasn't entirely selfless," he grins slightly. He has a cute dimple in his left cheek that I'd previously never seen.

Reality hits me all at once. I just kissed Abel. I'm in a relationship with Gordon Ramsay, and I just kissed my harshest competition. 

And he was right, I did feel something. I have been feeling something for a while.

I drop my arms from around his neck and clear my throat.

"I don't want to lead you on. Right now all I know is that I trust you. Thank you, Abel."

The urge to kiss him again is unmistakable. I want to draw him back and drink him in until I've had my fill of the stoic, kindhearted man in front of me. 

"I'm here for anything you need," his eyes are soft and welcoming.

If only he knew how badly my body is telling me I need his lips against mine, I know he'd appease me. If I could trust myself to not get carried away, I'd tell him.

Absentmindedly, I trail my fingers across my lips. I never would have guessed in a million years that I would be seeing two men at the same time and kiss them both on the same day. This is insane. Abel waits patiently for me to speak.

"S-so, uh," I sputter, trying to re-start my brain, "So you're OK with being my boyfriend and the whole plan?"

"I love the plan," he stops, a look of deep thought passing behind his eyes, "Is Ramsay going to be able to handle this?"

I nod. "I talked to him this morning. He permitted me to be with you. I don't think it came easily, but he trusts me and he knows that I trust you."

Abel returns the nod with the hint of a smile as he stands from the chair. He holds a hand out to me.

I take his hand and he helps me from the chair. After I'm standing, he laces our fingers together. I glance down at our joined hands and butterflies erupt in my stomach.

"Is there anyone else who knows you're with Ramsay?" he inquires.

"Taylor does. I promised to spend time with her later. I'll tell her what's going on when I get the chance."

"Be sure to. We don't need word getting out before the competition is over. You are going to tell people after the show, right?"

I nod again. "Yeah, we're planning on it."

He raises his free hand and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The sweet gesture combined with the warmth of his hand in mine has me pleasantly lightheaded.

"Then let's see where this takes us," he grins as he leads me by our linked hands to the door.


	99. Here Goes Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We reveal our new relationship to everyone!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have 2 commissions to finish by the end of the year so my posting schedule will be only on Fridays for this month. I might pick up the pace again after but I promise to always update at least once a week for you guys! Sorry, I have to focus on my art so I can make some actual money!

Sunday, July 14th, 2013

Walking hand in hand out in the open, a nervous sweat breaks out over my brow. After so long keeping my relationship hidden, having one that doesn't need to be covert feels strange. Even though I know it is Abel's hand and not Gordon's that I'm holding, I still feel anxious.

It certainly doesn't help me feel any calmer when we step back into the common area and the chatter from the couch falls silent. Bella's hand flies up to her mouth. Red's eyes go wide. Dave raises his eyebrows. A deep look of confusion settles onto Kalyani's features.

Taylor reels backward into the sofa cushions, her eyes darting from Abel to me to our joined hands then back to me.

"When did this happen?" Bella squeaks from between her manicured fingernails.

Abel smiles gently and squeezes my hand. "Five minutes ago, give or take."

A grin breaks out across Red's face. "You two are so cute together!" she balls her fists and shakes them excitedly as her grin widens.

Dave leans back into the couch and wraps his arm around Bella's shoulders. "Hell yeah, Abel! We got us a coupla cuties!"

"Indeed we have," he responds, his light blue eyes dancing as he looks down at me.

Kalyani stays silent with a faraway look. I fervently hope that she drops her suspicions about Gordon and me. To make a point, I stand on my toes and kiss Abel's smooth cheek, drawing his previously unknown dimple back out as he smiles at the contact. Her brows draw together but she continues her quiet contemplation.

"Can we talk now, (Y/N)?" Taylor's voice is hesitant. She pushes herself from the couch, her eyes reflecting confusion as she approaches me.

"For sure, Tay," I nod at her, then glance at Abel. He releases my hand.

"Go on and talk, I'll be here," he says as he heads towards one of the armchairs. 

"Oh, wait one sec!" I stop Abel, then pull his shirt out from where I had kept it folded up against my stomach under my shirt and toss it to him.

He catches it mid-air, and as Bella's eyes get as wide as saucers I realize my blunder. That looked a lot more suggestive than I'd intended.

Abel turns towards the men's dorm as Taylor takes my hand and pulls me into the women's dorm, closing the door behind us.

As soon as we're inside, she reels around on her heels and faces me head-on.

"Uhm excuse me _WHAT_?" she starts, a little too loudly, her curls bouncing around her face like they are alive with electricity. 

" _Shhh_! Gees! I promise I was going to talk to you about it!" 

I manage to maneuver us to my bed to sit down.

"OK, start explaining because I've clearly missed out on a LOT," she says, drawing her knees up to underneath her chin. 

I glance over at the closed door and strain my ears to hear the other chefs. Their voices are faint, but they're talking animatedly about something. I hear 'Abel' and '(Y/N)' among other unintelligible chatter.

I clear my throat before delving in.

"The interview team said Pietro had told them what he suspected about Gordon and me. I covered for myself by saying that I was actually interested in Abel," I begin.

She nods slightly, waiting for me to continue.

"So, this morning I went to Gordon to ask him if he thought I should carry out my plan of dating Abel as a cover for our relationship. He let me ask Abel, so I came back and talked to him about it. He agreed to the plan, and here we are," I shrug as if what I'd just said wasn't a colossal amount of information to absorb all at once.

Taylor's lips become a thin line. 

"Babe, he's totally into you. You shouldn't play with hearts like that. Especially not Abel's. He's like, I don't know... what's the non-religious version of a saint?" she crosses her arms around her bunched up legs.

I shake my head. "I told him what is going on. He's agreed to it. And the thing is," I drop my voice a little bit lower, "I... I think I do feel a little something for him. So even if it's not a permanent relationship, we're both in it together."

Taylor still looks unconvinced.

"So, what happens if the show ends and Gordon wants to whisk you away to, I don't know, Malaysia or something for his next show? Are you just gonna leave Abel stranded in Texas? Or are you going to leave him entirely once the show is done? Come on babe, where does this turn out OK for Abel?"

I bite my lip. I hadn't thought about Gordon's constant traveling. At first, I was thinking that Abel would go along with my plan to be helpful, but he felt more for me than I'd initially presumed.

And I feel more for him than I had realized as well. 

"I... I don't know," I bow my head. Gordon is fine with sharing me, but the logistics of having two boyfriends isn't something I'd fully considered until this moment. I didn't think Abel would want to be with me for real. How can I make them both happy?

Can I, even? Is it possible for me to stretch myself between two men and make sure we're all fulfilled? 

I didn't want to hurt Abel. Now it seems I've backed myself into a corner. Someone is going to get hurt. I don't want it to be Abel, but how can things work with him when Gordon needs me as badly as he does? 

When we out our relationship, will Abel be left in the dust? Or would he have to be a secret like Tana's boyfriend?

None of that sounds right.

I was right when I thought that I wasn't ready for this, but I've done it now. Everything is out in the open.

Well, not everything, but enough to where I've gotten myself into a situation that I have zero experience with. I'm having to consider thoughts I never imagined I'd need to.

"Did I just fuck up majorly, Tay?" I whisper, tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

"Hun, I'm sure you'll think of a solution. But you need to consider more than just yourself and Ramsay. Abel is a person too. A really good person," she unwraps her arms from around herself and places one hand over my back, "This isn't a private setting, he's putting himself on TV as your partner for the entire world to see. His life won't ever be the same after this, you get that?" her brown eyes bore into mine.

"I... I do. I'll figure something out. I want everyone to be happy," I mumble, tapping my foot anxiously on the floor.

"I know you do, (Y/N). Just use your brain and think for a second before you make any more big decisions on the fly. Not only is Abel your boyfriend now, but he's also like, insane competition. Competing against a romantic partner doesn't always end up pretty. I just want you to understand these things before they catch you off guard," the concern in her eyes is palpable.

I nod weakly. "Thanks, Tay. I'm sorry I'm such an idiot."

"Don't apologize to me, you should apologize to yourself for getting into this pickle. I'm just watching from the sidelines like... I dunno, a soccer mom or something," she shrugs. "I'm cheering for you, but you have to make your own mistakes so that you learn from them. Just know that Abel is entrusting his heart to you."

Tay is right. She's right about everything. Yet another mistake to add to my growing list of fuck-ups. I should have talked to her before I went through with my plan that I now see has many more holes in it than I'd anticipated. 

I wrap my arms around Taylor's huddled up body and rest my head on her shoulder.

"I'm going to figure this out. I'll have to do a lot more thinking than I have been, but I refuse for any one of us to get hurt. Thank you for being my voice of reason. I love you, Taylor," I say, squeezing her.

"Love you too, you doofus," she says with a grin, "Just keep me in the loop and I promise I'll try my best to help however I can."

I try to calm down, willing my muscles to relax.

I'd promised Gordon that I'd talk to him after talking to Abel. Now it seems I have a whole lot more to talk about than what Abel had said.

Somehow, I have to find a way to make this work.

Taylor and I exit the women's dorm after we compose ourselves- she helped me to calm my nerves and I helped her to not look like she'd been cut off at a huge cliffhanger of an emotional soap opera.

Abel is sitting in an armchair across from everyone else on the couch, laughing. His laugh is rich and smooth, like honey. 

A jumble of emotions tumbles over in my stomach, making me feel awful. 

When he hears the door of the women's dorm close behind us, he turns to the two of us, his eyes creasing in the corners with his grin. "Hey."

"Hey, Abel," Taylor curls her fingers in a half-wave.

"Hey," I wave too and smile, though my smile is lessened by the weight of the thoughts that Taylor has brought to the forefront of my mind.

A look of understanding flashes across Abel's face.

"(Y/N), did you still want to go over that recipe I mentioned earlier? We can go practice in the kitchen if you want."

After a moment of confusion, I realize he's trying to give me a way out of the room without looking suspicious.

"Yeah, please?" I request. Abel stands and holds his hand out to me. 

I glance at his hand before taking it in mine. The warmth of his touch feels good against my clammy skin.

Taylor pats my back as she moves to take Abel's vacated chair. Abel leads me down the steps. With each step, my breath gets shorter. By the time we reach the bottom of the stairs, I'm feeling light headed.

"What's wrong, (Y/N)?" Abel asks, wrapping his arm around my back to help me stay steady.

"I... I just... Taylor told me that..." I try to take a breath as my lungs feel like they're shriveling.

Abel leads me to the wall. He wraps his arms around me and slides down the wall until we're both huddled together on the floor just outside of the kitchens. 

"Shh, take your time," Abel comforts me, running the fingers of his hand that is around my shoulders through my hair. 

Eventually, my lungs begin to fill with air again. Abel holds me the entire time as I curl into him. 

I can't hurt him. I can't let him get hurt because of me.

"Abel, I'm a fool. I'm sorry I dragged you into my problems. Y-you're such a good man. You deserve... better than this... Better than what I've dragged you into..." I whimper.

Abel's light blue eyes are sharp as he takes my chin and turns me towards him.

"I'm not a child, (Y/N). I've spent quite some time thinking about the implications of being with you. I accept whatever happens. Please don't beat yourself up over me."

My lower lip trembles.

"I can't help it. I don't know how to handle this. I want everyone to be happy. Why does it seem like there's no way that can happen?" I groan, turning my head away from his touch and tucking my head under his chin.

"You haven't had enough time to think about it yet. Do you think all problems can be resolved in a day? If so, you were right when you called yourself a fool. We'll set our minds to finding a solution that works for all of us," I feel the vibrations of his soothing voice from where I've snuggled up under his chin, "If that solution involves me splitting off, I understand. If we can somehow find a way to make things work, even better. It was my decision to go along with the plan, respect it as my decision and not yours."

I raise my head from his chest and look up at him. His eyes are steely with determination.

"I care about you, I really do," he tightens his embrace, "I won't have you becoming a trembling mess because you're worried about how I feel. I'm happy, let me be happy. Will you be happy with me?" he asks with a small smile.

Without breaking eye contact, I nod slowly. "OK, Abel. I'll try. We'll think of something."

Abel stands and pulls me up with him. "We will, I'm sure of it. Now, go talk to Chef Ramsay. I'm sure you'll need to discuss a few things. I'll cover for you."

I reluctantly step away from his side and turn to the entrance of the kitchen. 

"Thank you, Abel. For everything."

He smiles wider, his dimple making a reappearance. "Of course, (Y/N). Anything for you."


	100. Promise Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordon has some important things to ask of us...

Sunday, July 14th, 2013

I walk through the kitchens, working to untangle my nerves as I head up the stairs to Gordon's office and knock on the door.

"Who is it?" he asks from inside, sounding much more awake.

"It's (Y/N)," I announce.

A few seconds later, the door to his office swings open. Gordon is wearing his everyday clothes now, a white t-shirt with a grey suede jacket over the top and black pants with a silver square buckle. His eyes light up as he gestures for me to come inside and closes the door behind us.

"How did it go, love?" he inquires, holding out a hand and pulling me into him when I take it.

I wrap my arms around his back and hold him tight. He returns the hug, kissing the top of my head.

"It went... better than I could have imagined, honestly... but..."

"But what?"

"But Abel likes me. **LIKE** likes me," I bite my lip anxiously.

Gordon pulls back from me and gives me an incredulous look.

"Well of course he does, darling. Anyone could have told you that."

Now it's my turn to look incredulous. _Really? Was it that obvious?_

"Why did you agree to let me date him if you knew that he liked me?"

Gordon pulls me tighter into him. "It wasn't easy to let my beautiful girlfriend into the arms of another man who is enamored with her, that's for sure. But I trust you, love."

I shake my head. "No, I mean, we shouldn't be using a guy who legitimately likes me to cover up our relationship. Isn't that rude? I don't want to lead him on, Gordon. He's been so good to me."

"You explained the situation to him, didn't you?"

"I... yeah, I did."

"Then what is the problem? He knows what he wants, (Y/N)."

A frown spreads across my face.

"I don't want him to get hurt. I almost feel like I've made a terrible mistake in getting involved with him. It is too late to turn back now though," I pull back from his chest, feeling conflicted.

I take a deep breath, bracing myself for what might come.

"Gordon, I kissed him. I didn't even mean to, it was like I couldn't stop myself. If I'm supposed to be not getting attached, it isn't working..." I trail off as guilt begins to take over.

"(Y/N), look at me," he asks, his voice calm but commanding.

I frown but obey, raising my eyes to lock onto his deep blue gaze.

"I'm a bit surprised you kissed him so soon, but I didn't say you couldn't get attached. I expected it, in fact."

My eyes widen.

"But... Taylor mentioned... what if you want to take me somewhere out of the country? Or what if we have to be gone for a long time? I can't just abandon him," I say as I slouch my shoulders.

"Love, if he wants you, he knows that there are certain roadblocks to work around. I'm away from my wife more than I'm with her, but we both have a mutual understanding. We love each other, we spend time together when we can, and we talk to each other over the phone each and every day. If you decide you want to still be with him after the competition, I'm sure we can work something out just as my wife and I have."

Gordon takes my chin in his fingers and rests the palm of his other hand against my cheek.

"But I do need you to promise me one thing."

I nod fervently. "Anything, Gordon."

His eyes get soft. A small, yet sad smile appears on his lips.

"Promise me if you fall for him that you'll still love me."

My heart flies up into my throat.

If I fall for him? Sure, Abel is alluring, but he's not Gordon. I'm transfixed by the look in his eyes. He's truly worried about this.

"I'll always love you. Always." I feel my body tremble as the words tumble from my lips.

"You promise?"

I nod furiously. "I do. I promise I'll always love you, Gordon."

Gordon leans in closer until his nose is nearly touching mine. "And I promise I'll always love you. I know there are a lot of feelings you have swirling about. Let me attempt to make reason of some of them for you," he kisses my nose with a small grin before continuing, "Love isn't a finite thing. You don't run out of it and you don't have to split it up. When I had each of my children, I loved them with all my heart from the second I saw their scrunched up little faces."

He moves his hands to either side of my arms and rubs them comfortingly. "When I fell in love with you, I didn't love my wife any less. Love expands to encompass whomever you let into your heart."

That makes sense, and begins to help me feel better about how my mind and body are responding to Abel.

"I have to say one more thing for my peace of mind, however," he says as his eyes burn with fierce intensity.

"(Y/N), there aren't many things I'll be firm with, but this is something that matters greatly to me. I need to know you understand the importance of what I'm about to say and how much it means when I say it."

My breath catches in my throat and I feel my stomach drop. His dominating aura begins to engulf me, making my knees weak. If not for his hands holding me up, I might have crumpled to the floor. Whatever he says next, he's serious about.

"I need you to make sure you treat us both fairly. Never one above the other. This will never work if you don't treat us with respect. We may each fill a different role, but we should have equal importance. It is human nature to have your feelings change, especially if you are upset with one of us, but the love must stay the same. Any more or less will foster resentment, I assure you," his eyes gaze into mine with unparalleled ferocity.

It feels like someone knocked the wind out of me. It takes me a moment to regain control of my body and begin breathing somewhat normally again.

"Y-yes Gordon. I wouldn't want it any other way," his palm begins to feel cool against my red-hot face.

"If things ever get that far with Abel, you must make sure he understands. Will you?"

"Of course, Gordon. I swear," I finish as I pull myself back into his chest. He wraps his arms around me and holds the back of my head with one hand.

"I-" he hesitates, "I'm sorry if I sound overbearing. I love you and I don't want to lose what we have. I'm not going to be able to be around as much as he is, especially now, what with all the cameras. I'm sorry," he repeats, sadness evident in his voice.

I step backward and take his hands in mine. Looking at his face, melancholy is unmistakable in his handsome features and in his wavering eyes of blue, turbulent sea.

"Honey, it's OK. We have all the time in the world together. You explained everything to me when we first got together. I want you, Gordon," I say as I trace my thumbs over his.

Relief washes over him as he visibly relaxes.

"Thank God, (Y/N). Have I told you recently how absolutely perfect you are?"

"You did, but I love hearing it anyways," I say with a grin.

"Excellent, because I'll never tire of telling you. I mean it," he leans down and kisses me, passion burning from his lips into me. It dawns on me how different his kiss is versus Abel's. Gordon always has unbridled energy- magnetic and fiery. Meanwhile, Abel's kiss was restrained, but his lips moved with a flow akin to a river in the mountains- cool yet smooth.

If Gordon is happy, and Abel is happy, I should try to be happy instead of worrying myself sick.

Gordon breaks off the kiss, releases my hands, and grins coyly. 

"So, do you have enough time to stick around for a bit?" his fingertips slide down my sides and then under my shirt, where he runs them across my stomach, "I could use your company..." he leans down and kisses my earlobe, sending shivers down my spine.

"I, uh, well," I try to think as he starts trailing kisses down my neck, "uhm," I dig my fingers into the sides of his velvety suede jacket, "Abel is in the kitchen waiting f-for me..." I finish, biting my lip.

"Oh bollocks, he can wait longer, can't he?" he mumbles into my neck, "He's barely lived as long as I have waited for you."

The crashing sound of a clanging pan snaps both of us to attention. Our eyes lock onto the door simultaneously.

"I think I should go see what that was," I say as I release his jacket and move to the door.

"Wait, before you open it, crack it a bit and see who's out there, yeah?"

"Good idea," I whisper before quietly turning the knob and peering outside. Abel is picking up a pot from the floor while Kalyani stands nearby, watching him with her arms crossed and her foot tapping the floor.  He has something cooking in a pan nearby, but I can't tell what it is.

I pull back from the door as my blood runs cold.

"Fuck, I said I'd be out there with Abel and now she saw I wasn't actually there..."

Anxiety threatens to send me into a huddled ball once more when Gordon steps to the door looking as calm as ever.

"I've got this, sweetheart," he winks before opening the door wide.

"Abel, you're next. Come on in my boy," he makes a grand motion of waving Abel inside.

"Thank you for your time, (Y/N)." He steps aside to make room for me to scoot past him and out the door. I shoot him a grateful glance over my shoulder as I start down the stairs.

"Sorry for the noise interrupting your conversation, the filets are almost done," Abel says as we pass each other on the stairs.

"No problem at all. Thank you," I say with a grateful look towards Abel this time.

Gordon shuts the door behind Abel, leaving me to face Kalyani in the kitchen.

Before she can say anything, I begin speaking. "I had to leave Abel in the middle of his instructions, hope he's not upset with me."

She uncrosses her arms and gives me a dubious look. "I just came down to grab a few ingredients for lunch."

"Oh, alright." _Sure you did, Kalyani_ , I think as I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Why is she so nosy? I move to the stove and begin basting the filets. Kalyani continues to stand next to me, her unnerving presence filling the room.

"Sooo, did you need my help to get the ingredients or something?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

Kalyani, who had been staring at the door to Ramsay's office, tears her eyes away. "Oh, no it's quite alright. I just came out to talk to Abel a bit since he was alone. I'll, er, be going now."

With that awkward goodbye, she turns and leaves the kitchen, passing by the pantry completely.

Thank God Abel thought to drop a pot to alert us. If I had fallen for Gordon's charms we would have been caught red-handed. If Gordon had pushed for me to stay much harder, I surely would have. I know by now that I can't resist him, especially not when he begins to order rather than request.

I wonder what Abel and Gordon are discussing as I pull the filets from the heat at a perfect medium-rare and set them to rest.

Knowing the two of them, neither is going to beat around the bush. If they have something to say to each other, they're surely making it known. I hope it is only good things and that they are getting along. How terrible would it be if either of them ended up hating the other?

Before my anxiety can well up again, I push it down. No, Gordon doesn't hate Abel. If he did, he wouldn't have been OK with any of this. I have to stop letting my nerves get the best of me.

Right as I finish my thought, Abel opens the door from Gordon's office and closes it behind him. He gracefully makes his way down the stairs and approaches the kitchen with a confident smile.

"Oh, excellent, you pulled the filets. Are you ready for lunch?" he asks as he steps into the kitchen and arrives at my side.

I glance up at Gordon's office then back to Abel. "Yeah, I guess, but is everything alright?" I ask nervously.

"Everything is just fine, (Y/N)," he chuckles, "You have to stop worrying about us so much."

He drops his voice and the look in his eyes becomes intense. "I'd worry more about Kalyani. She was asking me a lot of questions. Does she know something?"

"Oh, yeah... maybe. She has an inkling of something. I forgot to tell you, but Gordon and I almost got caught once when Pietro almost walked in on us. He was suspicious ever since then," I rub my arm nervously as I match his quiet tone, "before he left he told Kalyani that he suspected something was going on between Gordon and me. I don't think she believed it initially, but she has been getting more and more intrusive."

"Pietro's exit makes more sense now. I'll keep an eye on her, then," he says before raising his voice to a normal volume, "Thank you for letting me know."

He walks over to the oven where he pulls out two long halves of a toasted baguette and slides them onto a tray. The scent of garlic bread fills the room, making my mouth water.

I grab the plated filets and approach his side.

"That smells delicious," I say as my stomach rumbles.

"I'm glad you like it. Kalyani told me everyone was making macaroni, but I wanted our first meal together to be special, so I made the two foods that no one can resist- filet mignon and garlic bread," he grins, lifting the tray.

Abel's thoughtfulness knows no bounds. Not to mention his incredible talent and alluring personality. Briefly, I wonder why he didn't have a girlfriend before coming on the show. I'll have to ask him later when he isn't waiting for me with a charming grin and his hands full of the delicious meal he'd prepared for us.

"I hope you're ready for the black jacket challenge tomorrow, (Y/N). I don't know what he has planned, but I know it is going to be intense. He asked me to make sure you stay calm and get some sleep today. Let me know if there is any other way I can help."

"Of course, Abel. I will. Thank you," I return his smile as we ascend the stairs back to the dorms to enjoy our first lunch as a couple.

We reach the top of the stairs together as the other chefs are settling in to their seats at the table.

"Eyy, there's my girl!" Taylor perks up upon noticing me and pulls out the chair next to her.

"Don't worry babe, I got your loverboy a seat too," she winks cheekily and gestures to the seat next to the one she's pulled out.

I glance at Abel, who seems nonplussed at Taylor's playful ribbing. I'm the exact opposite, completely unable to keep my cheeks from burning scarlet.

I approach the seat next to Taylor while Abel takes the garlic bread and filets into the kitchen to plate them. Kalyani makes space for him to slide behind her as she stirs the macaroni on the stove.

"Ooh, you two made some delicious eats," Taylor says, sitting up in her chair and peering into the kitchen.

"Abel made the food, I just pulled it off the heat," I say with a small smile as my cheeks begin to cool off.

Kalyani puts the finishing touches on the macaroni with a cheese grater.

"Dave, can you help me serve everyone?" she calls from the kitchen.

"Oh, yeah sure!" Dave hops up from his seat across from Taylor and rushes into the kitchen, pulling bowls from the nearby cabinet. Bella, who had been sitting next to him, also gets up and moves to help bring the dishes to the table.

As everyone's food is distributed, Abel sits next to me and slides over my plate.

I feel bad for everyone else. Our lunch is so much more delicious looking than their plain macaroni and cheese, but those thoughts are pushed to the back of my mind as I take my first bite of the fillet. It is absolutely perfect, the meat is so tender that it melts like butter in my mouth. Following up the bite with some toasty garlic bread, I have to stop myself from moaning as the sheer deliciousness floods my taste buds.

I wouldn't believe that anyone other than Abel or Gordon Ramsay himself could have made such a delectable dish.

"How is it?" Abel asks, smiling slightly as I snap my attention to him.

"Honestly, it's amazing," I say sincerely.

"Gimme some!" Taylor whines, nudging my arm with her elbow.

"Oh gosh, alright," I feign annoyance and roll my eyes as I cut some of my mignon for her and slide it onto her plate along with a bit of garlic bread.

It doesn't take long for me to see the same look of utter satisfaction on her face as well.

When she draws out of her dreamlike state, she grabs my arm.

"Holy shit girl, get that man on lock-down or I'm taking him," she licks her lips in appreciation.

Kalyani, who is sitting at the end of the table, stirs her macaroni with her fork absentmindedly. She hasn't taken a bite yet that I've seen.

"You alright, Kalyani?" Bella asks, raising an eyebrow.

"What? Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry, just thinking," she raises her eyes up from the bowl and glances at Abel, then to me, then back to her bowl. "Just... thinking."


	101. Black Jacket Challenges Part 1/4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our black jacket challenges get underway!

Monday, July 15th, 2013

"Get ready, everyone! I hope you guys are ready for your black jacket challenge, Ramsay needs you all downstairs in ten minutes!" Christina's voice cuts through the dorms, reaching me in the bathroom where I'm straightening my blue jacket. No matter what happens, today will be the last day I wear this color. I know that I can replace it with black by the end of the day.

When I emerge from the bathroom, I notice Kalyani whispering to Janice in the far corner of the room. I briefly wonder what she's whispering about when my eyes draw to Abel sitting at a barstool. Most of the other chefs mill about getting prepared for the day but he is already dressed and ready.

I approach him on the barstool and slide in next to him. He looks over at me with a small smile.

"Good morning, (Y/N). Did you sleep well?" 

I nod, leaning my elbows against the countertop in front of us. "Did you?"

"I went to sleep early to be prepared. Five hours of sleep should be more than enough." 

I don't have time to think about how five hours of sleep is barely enough sleep for me to keep my eyes open before he leans over the raised counter and pulls two plates up, setting one in front of me.

A beautiful golden omelette with fresh herbs sits steaming on the plate, with a fork slid underneath one fluffy side. 

"Oh my goodness, thank you!" I take the fork and cut a corner of the omelette, bringing it to my mouth.

"Don't mention it, I did say I'd take care of you," he cuts into his own omelette with grace. How a person can eat food gracefully, I'll never know- but Abel accomplishes doing so.

The second I finish my last savory bite, Taylor comes up behind me and squeezes my sides. 

"C'mon slow poke! We're gonna be late!" she gestures to the stairs and holds her arm out to me.

I look over at Abel, who nods slightly. I take her arm and her and I head towards the stairs.

Janice, who was leaned against the wall near the stairs, grabs my shoulder. She tries to pull me aside, but Taylor is having none of that and keeps her arm linked with mine as Janice drags us both to the side.

"What is this I'm hearing about you dating Abel?" she asks, animosity lacing her tone.

"Isn't that what you wanted?" I say with confusion.

"Well, yes, but the ratings are never going to go up if we don't get more drama on tape!" she hisses, "You have to talk to Abel again, this time on the mics, about being in a relationship with him. Just do over what you said the first time so we have it on our recordings."

"That... isn't possible," I say slowly. Taylor glares at Janice and squeezes my arm.

Janice's eyes become beady points of light. "What do you mean _not possible_? You are the one who signed a contract, not the other way around. If I say you need to re-enact the scene, then you need to do it. I expect you two to have talked by tomorrow- that is if you survive the eliminations today," she adds on, sounding vaguely threatening. 

Taylor pulls on my arm. "Come on, we're going to be late," she shoots a hateful look at Janice before she and I rush down the stairs together.

The tension in the air is thick as we line up in red vs blue formation for the last time in front of the kitchens. Abel takes his place at my side with his hands locked behind him.

Gordon is already standing at the center of the dining room with his head chef jacket a near blinding white under the spotlight. Beside him there is a table stacked with black jackets. His eyes bouncing between each contestant and lingering on Abel and me for a second longer than everyone else.

I swallow nervously. I know Gordon said he was OK with this, but the jealousy that flits behind his eyes is distinct. Thankfully no one else knows his emotions as well as I do, so I know that his look will go unnoticed. 

I'll have to make sure he knows exactly how he makes me feel and crush the jealousy before it can get any stronger.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the biggest day of Hell's Kitchen thus far- the black jacket challenge! Are we all excited?" 

"Yes, Chef!" we shout eagerly.

Gordon grins at our enthusiastic response. "Excellent. We'll be doing three challenges in a row today, there can be two winners per challenge. The two of you who do not win any of the three challenges will be going home. Understood?"

We all look to each other in anticipation before responding, "Yes, Chef!"

"Your first challenge will be the presentation challenge! You'll be judged not only on flavor, but also how stunning your dish is. Flavor will account for five points while presentation will account for the other five points for a total of ten points possible per dish. The top two rated dishes will be given black jackets and allowed into the black jacket lounge to watch the rest of the competition."

Gordon then clasps his hands together in front of himself. "I've got a few very illustrious chefs coming in today to help me with judging these contests, so be sure you put out your best work. You'll have forty-five minutes to make one stunning entree dish. Is everyone ready?"

"Yes, Chef!"

"Then your time starts... Now!"

Everyone rushes into the kitchen. Ingredients are laid out on the pass for chefs to grab. I quickly scan the food options and consider what would look beautiful and taste just as delicious.

The New York strip steak stand out from the rest of the proteins. I grab a thin cut and take it over to my station, racking my brain for ideas.

I start to smile as my dish begins to take form in my mind. I'll make pinwheel steak. They're both impressive to look at and delicious when eaten.

To start, I toast some pistachios over medium heat until they begin to roast. I then add in spinach, arugula, cheese, garlic, salt, pepper, and nutmeg to a food processor and pour my pistachios on top. I pulse grind the filling into a paste and pour half the paste into a reserve bowl. With the other half of the paste, I pour it into a second bowl and stir in some olive oil to loosen it up.

Next, I put the steak between layers of wax paper. Using a meat tenderizer, I pound the steak until its half the original size. I move the wax paper away and season the steak with salt on both sides.

When I was just getting into wanting to be a Chef, my mother had taught me a secret. Pepper burns when it's put on the heat for too long, so always season with pepper right as the food is removed from the burner instead of before cooking it.

As I remember my Mom, I recall the startling image of her when I had turned the sauce container. My hand begins to shake, dropping more salt on the steak than I'd intended. I brush it off hastily. I have to keep my head in the game.

I grab the filling mixed with olive oil and brush it onto the steak. I then roll the steak tightly and cut it at the midway point.

My interest piques as I see Abel grab a piece of mackerel from the pass. Mackerel is a dangerous fish to cook, due to the fact that people tend to either love it or hate it. After having the amazing breakfast together that we did, I feel even more confident in his abilities. He'll do just fine this challenge.

Drawing my eyes off him, I secure the pinwheels with a skewer.

I have ten minutes until I'll have to pop these babies into the oven. I think about what would look pretty beside my pinwheels that can be done in ten minutes as I look over the ingredients available to us at the pass. 

Zucchini, that's the answer! I grab a zucchini from the pass and head back over to my station. Using a vegetable peeler, I slice the zucchini into thin ribbons and toss them with olive oil, pepper, lemon juice, and salt. I then let them sit in the bowl to absorb the seasonings.

Now, it's time to pop my steaks in the oven. I drizzle some extra olive oil on top and set them into the oven at 500 degrees for twelve minutes.

Gordon passes through the kitchen, inquiring into each of our dishes. He stops when he gets to my side. I feel him slip something into my jacket pocket as he keeps his eyes on my meal prep.

"What are you making?" he asks, peering around my station for a clue.

"Pinwheel steaks with zucchini ribbons, Chef," I answer as I shred Romano cheese for the top of my zucchini.

"Oh, lovely, a wonderful idea. I can't wait to see it," he compliments before stepping away and towards the next blue team chef. My curiosity makes the note feel like it is burning a hole in my jacket.

After a while, I open the door to the oven and peer in at my steaks.

My heart races.

Oh God.

Both the steaks have come unraveled. The skewer must not have been pushed down far enough! I hastily pull out my steaks and see if I can fix them before it's too late.

"Five minutes remain!" Gordon calls from the head of the kitchens.

My heart thuds against my rib cage.

I don't have enough time to fix this.

Hastily, I pull out the steaks and try to put them back together, but it is no use. The meat split down the middle of the skewer and hangs limply by a few sinews of fat.

"Get to plating!" Gordon's voice resounds through the busy kitchen.

With a defeated sigh, I grab my ugly excuse for pinwheel steaks and set them on the plate on top of a bed of seasoned zucchini ribbons. It'll have to do. Maybe everyone else will have failed, but a glance down at the dishes on the pass tells me I had better hope everyone's food tastes much worse than it looks.


	102. Black Jacket Challenges Part 2/4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our first black jacket challenge is judged!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied about posting on Fridays only. I missed you guys too much! So I'll be posting on Mondays and Fridays!

Monday, July 15th, 2013

"Are we all ready to present?" Gordon claps his hands from the dining room, turning our heads to him. 

"Yes, Chef!" we respond, though my voice comes in a bit quieter than the others. Making such a lackluster dish for the first challenge won't get me off on the right foot at all.

"I'd like to introduce my assistant judge for today, Chef Frank Bolvidair. He-"

My thoughts spin in a storm of disarray as Gordon continues to introduce his guest chef- a short, brown-haired man with a bit of a belly. My food looks like rubbish compared to everyone else. Soon enough, Gordon calls for the other chefs to present their dishes. I want to concentrate and see what they've made, but my failure to prepare an adequate dish eats away at me. 

I miss out on Dave and Kalyani's dish being presented as I work to keep a level head. I look to the TV screen behind Gordon and his assistant judge for their scores- Kalyani got a 3 in presentation and a 3 in flavor while Dave got a 4 in presentation and a 2 in flavor. So far, I might have a chance.

"Bella, please. Come forward," Gordon asks. I take a deep breath and force myself to look at whatever Bella has prepared.

Bella walks to the front and lays out her tray, removing the dome. 

"Chefs, today I prepared Chicken Francaise with lemon caper sauce on a bed of cilantro jasmine rice," she smiles sweetly as she takes a step back.

Even from where I am, I can see the chicken glistening.

Both chefs take a bite of her chicken and nod approvingly.

"Excellent, Bella. Very well executed. Frank, what do you think?" Gordon asks, turning to the chef beside him.

A wide grin spreads across Frank's face. "As far as the meat is concerned- well cooked indeed, young lady," he elbows Gordon, who smiles at Bella and nods his agreement, "but while the chicken is cooked to perfection, the presentation leaves a bit to be desired. I'd like some vegetables in this dish to add color."

"So with that, I'd say three in presentation, five in flavor!" Chef Bolvidair announces as Bella smiles. Dave claps for her from my right side as she comes back into the lineup.

"Next, Mary if you would please approach the table?" Gordon requests.

Red takes a step forward, realizes she forgot her tray, then grabs the tray and rushes to the front with her face already burning red.

"Well?" Gordon asks, gesturing to the still-lidded dish. She grabs the lid and pulls it off, clearing her throat.

"Uhm, I have thyme crusted pork tenderloin with brown sugar candied blood oranges," she bows her head and steps back from the table.

Red has her pork tenderloin on a black round plate, with the red-hued oranges fanned out around it.

"Upon first glance, your presentation is astounding, Mary. I mean that," Chef Bolvidair compliments her, reddening her face even further.

"But," he pulls the pork apart where he's sliced it, "it's not cooked through. I'm sorry, but I can't eat this. I'll go with a five for presentation, and a 1 for flavor."

Gordon sucks in air between his teeth. "Ooh, sorry about that Mary. Back in line, please?" he hands her the plate. Surprisingly, when she turns around, she isn't crying. Maybe she's toughened up a bit? She makes it back into line next to Kalyani and sets her plate down behind her on the pass.

"Taylor, would you mind presenting next?"

Taylor shakes her head and grabs her tray. When she makes it to the table, she sets the plate down and removes the dome.

"Chefs, I made a roasted duck breast with honey, thyme, baby corn, carrots and broccoli with a red wine sauce reduction." 

Tay's plating is gorgeous, she has her duck laid out on a white rectangular plate in two long strips with the different vegetables spread across the plate in a very deliberate pattern. The red wine sauce swirls in a beautiful circle underneath the duck and vegetables.

"My God, Chef, you didn't tell me you had a kitchen full of Picassos!" Chef Bolvidair claps his hands before grabbing his utensils and cutting into the duck. 

Gordon looks proudly over his chef lineup as Bolvidair takes a bite.

"Unfortunately, it is just a teeny bit dry. I'm going to go with another five for presentation, three for flavor. Still very well done, Taylor," Bolvidair smiles at her as he hands her plate over. 

"(Y/N) next please!" Gordon motions for me to come towards him.

My whole body tingles as I pick up my domed plate and approach Gordon. How can I do this? I'm presenting a terrible plate of slop right after Chef Bolvidair got done praising us. My footsteps get slower until it feels like I'm dragging myself to the front. Gordon doesn't say anything, but he looks concerned as I finally reach the table.

My fingertips twitch as I hover over the dome. Why did I have to fuck this up? Bracing myself, I pull off the dome. 

My poor, sad pinwheel steaks sit lopsided on the bed of zucchini noodles. Gordon's eyebrow raises as he looks over the mess.

"Sorry, Chef..." I mumble, "I attempted to make pinwheel steaks on a seasoned bed of zucchini noodles, but my skewers weren't deep enough and it came undone before I could fix it."

Chef Bolvidair gives me a pitying look before he cuts a bite of the steak and eats it. Ramsay follows suit, though I can tell by the look in his eyes there is no way I've won this challenge.

"Well," Chef Bolvidair starts, "It tastes good, but it just doesn't look the way it should. I'm sorry they fell apart, but I still have to judge you based on what I see in front of me. Two for presentation, four for flavor." 

Gordon takes the plate and hands it back to me before Chef Bolvidair can. I take the plate and move to stand back in line beside Abel, placing my dish behind me. 

When I turn to face the front again, I feel the warm touch of Abel taking my hand in his, lacing his fingers with mine. My frown immediately turns to a bashful smile as I look up at Abel, who squeezes my hand and leans into me comfortingly, his light blue eyes providing a soothing escape from my mistakes.

"Abel, step forward please?" Gordon asks. When I look over at him, his eyes are locked onto our joined hands. Briefly, I wonder if he called Abel forward just to get him to let go of my hand, then I realize I am forgetting that Dave and Kalyani had already presented their dishes and Abel is last up.

Abel lets go of me and takes his plate to the front, where he removes the lid. Inside I see a package of parchment paper.

"I have prepared Japanese style wasabi-ginger mackerel with snow peas and shiitake mushrooms," he reaches forward and pulls the twine holding the parchment together, a plume of white smoke puffs out, revealing the glistening fish inside the packaging.

"Wow, fancy," Chef Bolvidair says quietly as he examines the fish. Gordon nods, peering at the fish with interest.

Both chefs take a bite. Bolvidair's face lights up. "How did you manage to keep it so moist, it tastes better than any fish I've ever eaten, and I hate mackerel usually!"

Abel clasps his hands behind his back and shrugs slightly. "If you master a technique, it becomes second nature."

"Well, it must be in your nature to score perfect tens because you've got a five and a five from me!" Bolvidair says, his brown eyes sparkling. 

"Excellent as usual, Abel," Gordon compliments. To my surprise, none of the jealousy I saw in his eyes is reflected in his voice. He sounds genuinely happy for Abel.

Gordon turns to his guest chef and thanks him for his assistance. Chef Bolvidair waves to us as he exits the building. When the doors swing shut, Gordon turns back to face us.

"Taylor, step forward and join Abel at the front, please," Gordon opens his palm in front of him.

Taylor steps out of line with a gleeful smile back at me. I return the smile as she turns around and stands next to Abel.

Gordon takes the top jacket off the stack and hands it to Abel. Abel reaches forward and shakes his hand as he receives the jacket. 

"Well done, Abel. Absolutely stellar work. You'll be the first to enter the black jacket lounge," he gestures to a door in the far right of the dining room.

"And Taylor," Gordon reaches into the stack and pulls a jacket from the middle, "You've really become a force to be reckoned with, young lady. Thank you for your efforts, please join Abel on your way to the black jacket lounge."

Taylor takes her jacket and pulls it to her chest. "Thank you, Chef! Thank you!" 

Gordon grins. "Of course, darling. Go on and watch the rest of the show from the TV in the lounge, yeah?"

"Yes, Chef!" she salutes playfully before taking Abel's arm and pulling him with her into the lounge. 

Abel looks back at me over his shoulder as he is dragged away. He raises one hand in a wave before the two disappear into the lounge.

I know Abel doesn't like to be touched, much less dragged, but Taylor's excitement got the better of her this time and she has always been a touchy-feely sort of person. Since Taylor is such a good friend to me, Abel tolerates her endless enthusiasm for my sake. It is funny to me how different everyone I've met on this show are from each other, yet we fit together like we've been lifelong friends.

"Two more challenges to go, are we worried yet, Chefs?" Gordon rubs his hands together.

"No, Chef!" we respond, even though my anxiety is screaming at me that I'm more worried than I've ever been.

Two more challenges. I can make this right before it's too late.


	103. Black Jacket Challenges Part 3/4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second black jacket challenge gets underway!

Monday, July 15th, 2013

Gordon gestures to the large red curtain in the far corner of the room. Christina, Scott, and Jean-Philippe come out wheeling carts that each hold five pies. I cast a curious glance at Gordon, who smiles and curls his finger on his chin as he watches the carts reach the center of the room.

"For your next black jacket challenge, we'll be doing something a little different," he gestures to the deep-dish pies, "inside each of these pies is an ingredient you'll be using to cook something special. The pies on the far left are your proteins, the middle is the starches and the far right are your vegetables."

Bella looks confusedly at the pies. 

"Um, Chef, how can we cook anything with them if they are already baked into pies?" 

Gordon chuckles. "The pie crust is the only cooked portion- your ingredients are perfectly raw inside. Now come up and pick your pies then get in the kitchen and get cooking. You have forty-five minutes to whip up something delicious!" he opens his arms towards the pies.

Even though we have no idea what is in each of the pies, we still scramble to grab them and take them into the kitchen.

I slide my pies into my station and look at the perfectly golden-brown crust. Ingredients in pies? What will he think of next? 

Dave is directly next to me and he wastes no time in punching the crust of his pies in and pulling out his ingredients.

Taking a more delicate approach, I cut out the bottom of the pie tin so I don't get any pie crust on my ingredients that might interfere with the flavor. 

With my hand on the bottom of the pie, I lift the upper half off. A rack of lamb sits on the circle of pie tin in my hand.

Following suit, I cut out the bottoms of my starch and vegetable pies. I get long grain wild rice in a pouch from one and in the other, I find a leafy green I'd only cooked with once- endive. 

I'm going to make it into the black jacket lounge this time. A vegetable I have little experience with won't stop me. I know I can handle this.

I set one oven to 550 degrees Fahrenheit and a second oven to 425. After rinsing off the long grain rice and the endive, I pour my rice into a medium saucepan. I cover the rice in two cups of water and add a pinch of salt. When it begins to boil, I cover the pan with a lid and set it to simmer on low heat while I work on my other ingredients.

I'm not an expert by any means at cooking endive, so I go with a simple approach. Vaguely, I remember that endive tastes mellow and nutty when cooked. That flavor would go perfectly with a well-seasoned rack of lamb. 

The endive splits easily into six wedges. I spray a shallow roasting pan with nonstick spray then set the endive in carefully and sprinkle the top with olive oil, salt, and pepper before sticking it into the second oven.

Now, I set a cast-iron skillet onto the stovetop and set it to medium-high heat. While that heats up, I mix salt, pepper, rosemary, thyme, lemon zest, and garlic powder in a small bowl. Once it is thoroughly mixed, I rub the mixture onto the lamb and place it with the bone curving upward in the now-hot cast iron pan.

After two minutes, I turn the lamb and brown the other side. 

"Twenty minutes, Chefs!" Gordon calls from the pass. I feel his eyes on me, so I look up and meet his gaze. The knitting of his brow shows me that he's feeling concerned. I smile in an attempt to soothe his nerves, then realize how silly I am to be trying to comfort him while I'm the one with my neck on the line. Still, he returns the smile and looks calmer, which helps quell some of my anxiety.

My lamb is ready to be set into the oven. I take the pan and slide the meat into the bottom rack and close the door.

The next twenty minutes fly by as I watch the other chefs working on their dishes. Bella has an intense look of concentration on her face, but she grins when Dave bumps her side with his hip. 

Red looks adorable as ever, her tongue sticking out slightly between her lips as she watches her pans.

"Five minutes, ladies and gentlemen! Get to plating!" Gordon calls.

I take my endive from the oven and then follow up with the lamb. The endive looks perfectly crispy. While it is still hot, I grate some parmesan cheese on top of it to let it melt. Thankfully, my lamb looks gorgeous as well. I slice the lamb and the delicious scent of the meat wafts up to my nose. There is no way I'm not passing with this dish.

Plating is easy as well, I set the endive in a fan on one side of the plate while placing my lamb down on the other side with the bones facing outwards. It looks beautiful. I'm going to win this time for sure.

"Time!" Gordon claps his hands and gathers our attention at the front of the kitchen, "Are we all ready to present?"

"Yes, Chef!" we shout back enthusiastically.

"Good, allow me to introduce my guest judge for this competition. He became famous for his fusion of Korean and Mexican cuisine which he sells from his roving gourmet food trucks, Chef Roy Choi!"

Chef Roy pushes through the doors of Hell's Kitchen with a wave- he's got sleeve tattoos up his arms and wears a baseball cap and a huge, contagious grin. I bet Gina would have liked him- he looks more like a rapper than a Chef, but I know better than to judge a book by its cover.

"Hey, everyone! Thanks for inviting me Gordon," he shakes Gordon's hand and stands at the table beside him. 

"Of course, always lovely to have you, Roy. Now, let's see what our Chefs have prepared for us- Bella, would you step forward?"

Bella takes her plate and carries it to the front. She places the domed plate in front of the two chefs and lifts the lid.

"Today I made a rib-eye steak with cubed Yukon potatoes and grilled radi-radicc-" she sputters, trying to find the word.

"Radicchio?" Gordon finishes her sentence for her. 

"Yeah! That!" she says with a thankful smile at Ramsay. Did we all get difficult vegetables to work with?

The two chefs each try a bite of her rib-eye steak. By the contented look on both of their faces, I know she's got a good chance.

"So, Chef Roy, on a scale of one to ten, where would you set this dish?" Gordon inquires.

"Oh man, I'd have to say a definite nine. It's cooked perfectly," he says, patting his stomach.

"Lovely, Bella. A very strong start! Go on back in line, we'll need Dave's dish next," Gordon hands her the plate. As she passes by Dave, he mouths 'congrats' to her.

"Dave, what are you presenting for us today, young man?" Gordon peers down at his dome.

Dave lifts the dome and pushes the plate towards the pair of judges.

"I've prepared beer-basted, crispy-skinned turkey with pesto and rhubarb angel hair pasta. Hope you like it." 

Chef Roy cuts some turkey and brings it to his mouth. His nose wrinkles and he pulls the fork away from his face.

"It smells like a distillery," he says, biting his cheek and tilting his head at Dave skeptically.

"Yeah, uhm, I put a bit too much beer in the pan but I cooked it off," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

"No shit you cooked it off, you also cooked the moisture straight out of your turkey. It's inedible. Crispy skin my ass," Gordon chides Dave.

"But hey, the noodles are good!" Chef Roy tries to mediate, his eyes flicking between the two.

Gordon nods, "Yeah, good thing you didn't baste them in alcohol too. Roy, what do you think?"

"I'd give it a five," he shrugs.

"Right, makes sense." Gordon hands the plate back to Dave, "Mary, you're up next please."

Red takes her tray in both hands and steps towards the judging table. She looks different than she did the first time she'd stepped up to be judged. Instead of slouching and bowing her head, she stands upright with shoulders set back.

"Mary, what do you have for us today?" Gordon asks.

"Hey, Chefs. I made a baked sea bass with garlic butter pretzel coating and roasted carrots," she pulls the lid off then stands back from the table.

"Ooh, it looks tasty!" Chef Roy lights up as he cuts into the fish, "It's glistening inside, I can't wait to eat it."

Both Gordon and Chef Roy eat multiple bites of the sea bass before Roy looks up from the dish.

"This is so, so good Mary! Expertly cooked. I just love it," Roy compliments.

"Yes, excellent use of your starch making that fish coating. Really, really well done," Gordon nods as he wipes his lips off with a napkin.

"Thank you, Chefs!" Red bounces on her toes.

"What would you give that dish, Roy?" 

"I have to go with a ten, Gordon," Roy says, wiping his lips off as well.

"Amazing, well done Mary," Gordon praises her. 

I see Red's ears tinge pink as she takes her plate from Gordon. "Thank you again, Chefs." 

"No, thank _you_ , Mary!" Roy grins.

Red's face is almost entirely scarlet when she gets back in line and Gordon calls for Kalyani's plate.

Kalyani moves forward and places her domed plate down and lifts the lid as she presents.

"I've made duck breast with shallots, green beans, and a white wine sauce, Chefs."

Chef Roy looks down at the plate then back up at Kalyani. 

"Looks great, let's see what it tastes like, eh?" he winks as he cuts the duck and takes a bite. His lips immediately pucker.

"Is... is that..." Roy starts.

"Acidic as fuck? Yes." Gordon finishes, wiping his tongue on a napkin. "Did you dump a whole bottle of vinegar instead of wine?"

"N-no Chef, I just-" Kalyani's eyes widen.

"This is inedible, Kalyani. Come on. Did you even taste it?" Gordon asks, setting his fork down.

"I didn't have time-"

"Kalyani, you must make time for tasting your food. You're a fucking chef, aren't you? Taste everything!" the bitterness in his tone is as evident as the bitterness in her food must have been. 

"Sorry Kalyani, but I'm gonna give this a two," Chef Roy shrugs and sets down his fork.

"Generous of you," Gordon offhandedly remarks as he hands the plate over to Kalyani.

My nerves tangle as Gordon rails into Kalyani. I'd told him she had an inkling of what was going on, and he's not giving her any reason to be on our side. I know it is just part of the show, but Kalyani is a ticking time bomb and rubbing her the wrong way is only going to lower her time until detonation.

Strangely enough, she doesn't seem too upset as she makes it back to the line. She glances at me for a moment and her eyes darken slightly. I feel a chill run down my spine before she looks away. 

"(Y/N) next, please," Gordon looks over at me and his scowl is replaced with a soft smile. 

This is it, I'm winning my black jacket now. I have to score a nine or ten, but I'm confident in my abilities.

I take the plate up to the judges' table and remove the lid.

"Hey Chefs," I start, "I made a delicious rack of lamb with oven-roasted endive. You're sure to love it." I grin at Ramsay and Chef Roy.

"It looks great, (Y/N)," Roy says appreciatively and moves to cut into the lamb when Gordon stops him by moving his arm in front of Roy. Roy looks up at Gordon curiously.

"Darling, where is your starch?" Gordon asks, raising his eyes to meet mine.

"My- my starch?" I stare down at my plate.

Oh no. Oh God no. 

"It... it's on the stove, Chef," my voice cracks. "I left it... on the stove..."

The pain that floods Gordon's eyes matches what I feel to a tee. At that moment, I feel smaller than I ever have in my life. Not only have I let myself down, I let Gordon down. He was worried for me and I gave him reassurance that I had this. I knew I was going to win this round. I _knew_ it. Now my chances of making it to a black jacket have been cut even further. And it's my own damn fault.

My mind draws to Abel and Tay watching me fail from the black jacket lounge. Both of them likely noticed the rice being forgotten. I imagine Tay screaming at the screen and Abel pacing the room. I know if they had been in the kitchen with me, they would have reminded me... but I'm all alone. Gordon can't help, and neither can my two closest friends.

The dining room is silent. I feel the condoling eyes of the other contestants weighing me down. Soon enough, I'll have more than just the people in this building seeing me in my pathetic state. The whole world will see how much of an idiot I am to have forgotten a key component of my dish.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, unable to keep eye contact with Gordon without bursting into tears. I look down at my half-empty plate and feel my lower lip trembling. How could I not have remembered the rice? The dish looks bereft without it. When I tear my eyes from the dish, Chef Roy gives me an apologetic look, frowning deeply.

"Well," Gordon sighs, "let's not waste it, anyhow. Want to give it a try?"

Chef Roy nods and they cut into my lamb and endive. 

Roy continues to frown when he finishes his bite.

"I'm really sorry, (Y/N). This is... I don't know, it's perfect. I was hoping it wouldn't be, honestly, so you wouldn't have missed out on your chance to move on to the black jackets." The pity in his voice is strong, yet kind. I wish I could dissipate into thin air like the smoke that is rising from my burnt rice at this very moment.

"It is very good, (Y/N). Definitely worthy of a high score. I wish you'd remembered your rice, sweetheart. I'm so sorry," Gordon hands me back the dish and I try to take it without betraying the trembling of my fingers.

"Don't be sorry, it was my fault," I scold myself as I take the plate from him, still not making eye contact with Gordon. 

When I make it back in line, Red leans into me comfortingly. 

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)," she whispers.

"Bella and Mary, please come forward," Gordon requests. Red squeezes me with one arm before leaving my side. Bella kisses Dave's cheek and whispers something to him before moving out of line and approaching Ramsay.

"Well done you two, excellent scores. Here," Gordon holds out both of their black jackets at the same time, "You deserve it."

He's smiling when he says this, but his smile doesn't reach his eyes.

There is only one more spot on the black jacket team.

I glance at Kalyani, who's staring at her toes. My eyes flick to Dave, who is watching Bella disappear into the lounge with a lopsided grin.

Fucking up again would destroy me. Everything I've worked for has been leading to this critical moment. I won't be headed home, I can't leave while I'm so very close to the black jacket that I've dreamed of since I was sixteen.

I have to make it.

I have to.


	104. Black Jacket Challenges Part 4/4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thrilling conclusion to our black jacket challenges!

Monday, July 15th, 2013

"I'm sorry to say it, but only one of the three of you will be making it into the black jacket lounge," Gordon rubs his hands together and his eyes move between Dave, Kalyani, and me. When his gaze meets mine, I see my worry reflected in them. My mouth goes dry as my anxiety peaks. I clutch my fists at my sides in an attempt to stifle my nerves.

This is my last chance.

"The final black jacket challenge will be a test of your skill in preparing what is known as an 'amuse-bouche', a bite-sized morsel traditionally served before the appetizer and main course. Your amuse-bouche should personify you as a chef and get your patrons excited for the rest of their meal."

He bounces on the balls of his feet, "Think of it as a first impression. If it is lackluster, they might think less of your food. If it is astounding, they will go into their meal with excitement for what is to come. Make sure that it is presented beautifully as well, yeah? You'll have thirty minutes to come up with two servings of anything you desire, so long as it can be eaten in one bite. Your time starts..." he glances at his watch, "now!"

I push all my thoughts of inadequacy and anxiety out of my head. I don't have time to think about anything but what two tiny bites of food that I'm going to make.

My hands reach for two squash blossoms and a head of purple cauliflower as my eyes continue searching the ingredients. In the far back corner, I find what I had been searching for. The white, bulbous end of the delectable Porcini mushroom sticks out like a beacon from the surrounding green vegetables. Leave it to Ramsay to always have the rarest ingredients.

For my final ingredient, I grab some Mortadella Italian sausage and take the batch of food to my station. No more fuck-ups. No more forgetting things. This will be perfect I swear to myself, to Ramsay, and my parents as I roll up my sleeves.

I heat the oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit and set a steamer pot to boiling. While my heat starts, I separate a small section of cauliflower from the head. I cut the Mortadella into thin slices and roll them up, keeping them thin at the bottom and loose at the top, like a tiny pink flower. _Presentation, presentation, presentation_ rattles through my brain.

Gordon stays out of the kitchen this time, but I can feel his eyes on me as I drop the cauliflower into the steamer and set my beautiful squash blossoms on a baking tray with the petals open. I pour some olive oil into a small dish and stir in a drop of raw honey until it mixes in, brush the open petals with the slightly-sweet mixture, turn them over, and pop them in the oven.

I rinse off the Porcini mushroom and examine it for bugs. Finding none, I lay it down on the cutting board. I won't be cutting it yet, to make sure it is as fresh as it can be when I finally plate it.

While my cauliflower and squash blossoms cook, I decide to root through the dishes looking for something stunning to present my dish with. In the back, I see a few plates with flat-bottomed spoons accompanying them. I pull the dishes out and examine them. The plates are white with gold-rimmed edges. In the very center, there is a black circle that looks to be hand-painted with intricate swirls inside and a laced outer edge. The bottom of the spoon has the same intricate circle design. It's perfect.

Taking two plates and two spoons, I set them out at my counter. Since I'm not steaming much cauliflower, it's likely already cooked. I remove the lid and a plume of vapor rises. Gently, I insert a knife into the stem of the cauliflower, feeling the perfect amount of resistance. I take the cauliflower and dump it into a food processor along with a small amount of the water it had been steaming in and press the purée button. When I stop to scrape the sides, I add in a small amount of butter, salt, garlic powder, and pepper to the mix and pulse it again.

Now that the purée is done, I need to get my squash blossoms out. Carefully, I take the pan out of the oven and set it at my station. The squash blossoms came out perfectly– because of how I'd laid them out, they still look to be in full bloom when I pick them up and turn them over, shredding some fresh mozzarella onto the petals where it melts in light white crisscross patterns across the petals.

"Five minutes, Chefs!" Gordon announces from the pass. I expect my heart to begin racing, but it remains calm and collected as I set the squash blossoms in the spoons with one petal dipping down into the base of the spoon and the rest of the blossom leaning against the steady slope of the handle. I then take a spoonful of purple cauliflower purée and meticulously place it each spoon, careful not to get the purple color on my orange squash blossoms.

Now it is time to add my Porcini mushroom. I lay it on its side and cut a thin slice from the cap to the base. I then brush a small amount of olive oil over the top and cut into the slice, making a swirl that hangs like a spring when I hold it by one end. I place the very center of the swirl onto the cauliflower purée and drape the sides of the swirl until the white of the mushroom lays elegantly over the purple of the purée.

Finally, I set the flower of Mortadella sausage in the very center of the mushroom and cauliflower, where it sits in a beautiful, colorful arrangement. A minuscule sprinkle of large grain salt over the top completes my dish. I repeat the same action for the second spoon and cover my plates with a dome a mere moment before Gordon calls,

"Time! Hands off the plates!"

I back away from my dish and my trepidation returns in full force, making my knees weak. What if the judge doesn't like it as much as I do? What if I used too much food? Will I lose points if he can't eat it in one bite?

The worry nags at me until Gordon meets my eyes. I know he watched me the whole time I made my dish. The calm steadiness in his gaze solidifies my jellying legs and I smile at him, my earlier confidence returning until the anxiety is forgotten. Gordon believes in me. I believe in me.

I've got this.

"Our guest judge for the final competition is a very good friend of mine. He's the executive development partner of many of my restaurants. Please join me in welcoming Chef Jocky!" Gordon claps as Chef Jocky emerges from the entrance. He's as tall as Ramsay and wears a lopsided grin as he approaches the judges' table. His tousled, curly brown hair is slicked back casually and he's wearing a white chef coat just like Ramsay's.

"Morning, Chef," he greets Ramsay with a hearty handshake. His thick Scottish accent makes me instantly grateful that Gordon's accent is more understandable.

"Morning, Jocky. I've called you in because I need some help judging the final round of our black jacket challenges. The three chefs in front of you have prepared a single bite amuse-bouche for us and you'll need to decide who moves on and who gets kicked," he grins at Jocky and playfully slaps his back, "no pressure, eh?"

"Oi, only a wee bit o' pressure, nothing I haven't worked with before. Lesse what they've cooked, shall we?" Jocky grins at Gordon and elbows his side.

They're obviously good friends– I wonder how many friends Gordon has in this business. He seems to know everyone and remembers all of their names. I've seen him talk to all sorts of people from the camera crew to the janitors and he remembers their children's ages and banters back and forth about their favorite sports teams. His brain must be jam-packed with all sorts of people from all around the world.

It makes me feel giddy that, of all the people he's met, I'm the woman he chose to make his. I'm sure he's had thousands of women desire him, but he chose me of all of them. Me, the line cook who only ever wanted to make him proud ever since I was sixteen.

I'm going to show him why I belong here at his side.

"First up, let's see Dave," Gordon gestures for Dave to approach the judges' table. He reaches the front and lifts the lid off his dish. Both Gordon and Jocky lean forward over the dish at the same time.

"What 'ave we 'ere?" Jocky muses as he examines the two plates.

"Chefs, I made caramelized apple with goat cheese on top of fresh toasted Italian bread," Dave finishes, stepping back from the table.

"A wee bit lackluster, Dave. Yet, your flavours can make up for the presentation," Jocky lifts the bread and bites into it. Gordon follows just behind, biting into the bread with a crunch.

"Mhm, what do you think Jocky?" Gordon asks between finishing off his piece.

"'S good, Dave. Decent. Could use a little cinnamon with tha' caramelized apple, yeah?" Jocky suggests.

Dave nods, "Yeah, I suppose so, Chef," he looks over at the camera. I bet he's thinking of Bella watching him. I hope she'll be OK if Dave doesn't make it.

 _When_ Dave doesn't make it. _I'm winning this competition_ , I remind myself.

"(Y/N), you're up next," Gordon locks eyes with me as I take my tray to the front. I keep my shoulders back and my head held high as I approach the table and set the tray down.

"What have you for us today, love?" Gordon questions, the corners of his lips rising slightly.

I lift off the dome and my smile grows as I hear both Gordon and Jocky take in a breath.

"My God, Gordon, this is beautiful," Jocky starts, placing both hands on the table and leaning towards the dishes. "Look at that there, it's like springtime in a spoonful."

"He's right, young lady, this..." Gordon looks down at the dish, his blond bangs hanging over his forehead, "this is truly incredible. Fit to be a work of art. What's in it?"

"Thank you, Chefs," My heart skips as both the chefs praise my dish. "I made purple cauliflower purée, baked, honey-brushed squash blooms with melted parmesan cheese, a Mortadella sausage curled to look like a flower, topped with a fresh raw Porcini mushroom swirl."

Gordon and Jocky take the spoons, holding their hand under their spoon as they bring it to their mouths.

As I expected, the squash flower isn't able to be eaten in a single bite, but Jocky lifts it from the handle and eats it in a second bite. Gordon does the same.

"What did you think, Jocky?" Gordon asks, his face maddeningly unreadable.

"I... I don't know what ta say, Gordon," Jocky looks at Chef Ramsay, then at his empty spoon. A smile slowly spreads across his face.

"Other than it were perfect."

My body immediately fills with tingles from my head to my toes. I knew I'd made something amazing. I'm so happy that Jocky tastes the love I've put into my dish.

"That's the best dish I've seen out of you, (Y/N). Creative, beautiful, and delicious. Everything an amuse-bouche should be. Spectacular work, love," Gordon is full-on beaming at me now, I struggle to not bounce in place as he hands me back the empty plates.

When I turn around and head back to the line, Dave looks pale. I know there is no way his amuse-bouche was better than mine. Kalyani, on the other hand, doesn't show any emotion at all. She avoids my eyes entirely, only moving when Gordon calls for her plate.

Kalyani approaches the judges' table, where Gordon and Jocky are still raving about my food to each other.

When she gets to the table, she lifts the dome off. Gordon and Jocky go silent, waiting for her to introduce her dish.

"I made blue cheese stuffed button mushrooms in chili garlic butter," she states apathetically. To me, it seems like she's already checked out.

Gordon and Jocky take a mushroom each and pop it into their mouths.

"It's good, but not as pretty as an amuse-bouche should be," Jocky says, wiping his lips off.

Gordon takes a drink of water before shrugging. "Yeah, Kalyani. The presentation was off, but the flavors were good. Thank you, darling," he hands her back the plate.

She turns around and walks back to the line, still as emotionless as before. She's been acting more strangely the last two days in particular. It's starting to disturb me a bit. I can't help feeling like it has something to do with what Pietro told her. Maybe she's starting to believe it after all, even though Abel and I are together.

"Jocky, have you come to a decision on the winner of the final black jacket challenge?" Gordon asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Ye, Chef. T'weren't much of a competition if I'm being honest," Jocky glances over at me and I see his eyes twinkle, "Has to be (Y/N). Hands down."

I can't hold back my excitement anymore, I begin jumping up and down before my legs carry me to the judges' table faster than I can think. Gordon holds out a black jacket to me– MY black jacket!

His excitement parallels mine as I take the jacket from him. We both smile widely at each other, our eyes locked as I remove my old blue jacket and slip on the black one, furtively moving his note from my blue jacket to my black one in a closed fist. I feel how proud he is of me in his gaze, and it makes me grin so hard my face starts to hurt.

Dave's voice comes in from the back with a "Congrats!" that manages to sound cheerful, even though I'm sure he must be upset at losing and being separated from Bella.

"Incredible work, (Y/N). Seriously, bloody brilliant. I'm sure your friends were missing you in the black jacket lounge, get on in there with them!" Gordon opens his arm towards the black jacket room.

I want to rush into his open arm, but even while I know he would let me, I also know Kalyani is watching me more closely than ever. I'll be holding Gordon and never letting him go in just a few more days, so I settle for a "Thank you, Chefs!" at Gordon and Jocky before rushing towards where Gordon had indicated.

As I reach the door, I turn around and look at Dave and Kalyani. Dave is hanging his head, scuffing the carpet with the toe of his shoe while Kalyani watches Gordon and Jocky talk with her face completely, unnervingly neutral.

I place my hand on the doorknob of the black jacket lounge, now wearing the jacket I _knew_ would be mine.

I've made it to the final stretch and nothing will hold me back now.


	105. The Black Jacket Lounge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We've made it into the black jacket lounge!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! For everyone's present, I've decided to post an early chapter! Thank you for all your kudos and comments on Hell's Smitten, I love the little family we've formed over the last six months of the story being posted. I hope everyone has a great holiday. :D

Monday, July 15th, 2013

I open the door and Taylor's hazel eyes meet mine with a flash of excitement.

"I KNEW it!" she cheers, "They cut the cameras before announcing the winner. We were so worried about you when you forgot that rice, but I knew once I saw your fancy pants spoon bite thingy that you won for sure!"

Taylor grabs my hand and pulls me into an embrace. I squeeze her back and look through her sprightly curls at Abel, who is standing a few feet away from the door and grinning at me with his arms crossed. The black jacket he wears makes him look even more handsome and imposing

Once Taylor lets me out of her hug, I take a step towards Abel before Bella's voice cuts through the air.

I turn towards the source of the sound. Bella sits on the couch in the center of the room next to Red with her eyes glued to the screen.

"Dave!" she chokes out. Taylor rushes to the couch and plops down to the right of Bella. My eyes are locked onto the TV, watching with fascination. The camera focuses on Dave's puffy eyes and half-hearted smile as he walks towards Ramsay.

I jump a little when I feel a hand against the small of my back. It's only Abel, and I relax as he hooks his arm around my waist. 

"I knew you'd make it. I wasn't worried at all," Abel whispers. I lean into his shoulder while a grin spreads across my face. He is warm and makes me feel secure.

On the screen, Dave has reached Gordon and hands him his blue jacket. 

"Dave, from the start I thought you were just another goofball. I mean that. But you blew my expectations out of the water, young man." Gordon takes Dave's jacket and folds it over his arm, "You have an amazing personality. You're kind, fun, and a hard worker. You're going to be an incredible father, you know that?"

Dave's half-smile turns into a full one. When he smiles, tears are squeezed out of his eyes and roll down his cheeks.

"Thank you, Chef. Thank you for everything. But mostly thank you for bringing Bella here with me, I had no idea I'd find someone who loved me in Hell of all places," he jokes, his eyes shining.

"C'mere," Gordon smiles, then opens his arms. Dave hugs Chef and a few more tears trail down his cheeks before he releases Gordon and steps back.

"It's been an honour, young man," Gordon shakes Dave's hand. 

"Likewise, Chef," Dave grins before waving at the camera, "I'll be waiting for you to win this for us, babe. I love you, Bella."

"I love you too, Dave!" Bella wails, crossing her arms around herself and squeezing tightly. Taylor rubs her back with one hand and her knee with the other, trying to comfort her as Dave waves goodbye to Kalyani.

"You got so lucky with him, Bella," Red's small voice is barely audible, "Ramsay is right, he is going to be an amazing dad."

Bella's crying fills the black jacket lounge as she buries her face into her hands.

"Th-that was the f-first time he said he loved me..." she sputters before leaning into Red's side, "I d-didn't get to tell him back!"

"He knows, Bella. You heard what he said. He already knows," Red tries to comfort her, petting her hair with one hand.

While everyone else is talking to Bella, I look around the room. It is spacious with a bar in the far corner, a pool table, a table full of snacks, and then the TV and the couch in the center of the room. Aside from the snacks, nothing else seems to have been touched. 

"We were too busy watching the show to enjoy the room, really," Abel notes, reading my mind.

On screen, the doors to Hell's Kitchen swing closed behind Dave's back. My heart immediately leaps into my throat. If Kalyani is going to say anything, this is the prime time to do so.

"Kalyani, step forward please," Gordon indicates in front of him. 

Kalyani comes forward and takes off her jacket, holding it out to Gordon.

"I don't know where your dedication has gone, Kalyani. You used to be so," Gordon shakes his fist, "Passionate. Creative. Now, I see that your heart isn't in it. Thank you for your time, but you aren't ready to be my head chef."

"Thanks, Chef." Kalyani's expression is dead as she shakes Gordon's hand limply before turning towards the doors and exiting Hell's Kitchen.

That... that's it? For some reason, Kalyani's attitude has me more flustered than when Pietro had stormed out of the building and almost given away Gordon and my relationship. Something has felt off about Kalyani for the last two days in particular. She didn't say anything, yet goosebumps raise on my arms.

"You're tense. What are you thinking about?" Abel asks. It feels so natural to be with Abel that I forgot I was leaning against him. 

"Kalyani has been really weird the last few days, Abel. It's unsettling. Like Ramsay said, it's almost as if she's given up. I don't understand it. It's so unlike her to just leave like that."

I thought being rid of Kalyani would bring relief, but instead all I feel is worsening anxiety. But why? What could she possibly know? Even if she did somehow know something, she has no proof of my relationship with Gordon. So why does her leaving Hell's Kitchen make me so goddamn worried?

"I know. I've noticed her behaving oddly as well. I wonder why?" Abel wraps his other arm around my stomach. 

"Let's talk about it later, alright?" his silky voice soothes my singed nerves, "Do you want a drink?"

I open my lips to respond when the doorknob turns.

"Dave?!" Bella shouts as the door opens.

"Sorry, it's just me checking in on my black jacket team," Gordon peeks inside with a grin. 

Gordon's eyes flick to mine for a second. My heart flutters before I realize that I'm currently wrapped up in Abel's arms. As he saunters into the room and closes the door behind him, my cheeks go deep scarlet. 

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a fantasy plays. In said fantasy, Gordon steps forward and sweeps me into his arms, plants a kiss on my lips and congratulates me on making it in by the skin of my teeth. Instead, he turns towards the sofa.

"Bella, are you going to be alright?" He asks, setting a hand on her shoulder. She looks up at him and nods timidly.

"Y-yeah, I think..." she trails off.

Abel unwraps his arms from around me and nudges me forward. Gordon turns around and his lips tug upwards.

"Come here, you," he holds an arm out and I reach for him, wrapping my arms around his torso. 

"I was worried about you, you know that? I know you're better than your first attempts. Well done," he squeezes me then lets me go much earlier than I would have liked. 

"Didn't have to worry about you two any, did I?" Gordon looks at Abel then down at Taylor, who beams up at him.

"Na, Chef. We're amazing," Taylor flips her hair dramatically, eliciting a giggle from Red. 

"You've really stepped up, Mary. Come out of your shell just a bit more and you'll be a force to be reckoned with in the kitchen, yeah?" Gordon makes a thumbs up at her, who returns the thumbs up.

"'Course, Chef. I'll try my best!" she giggles.

"Well done, everyone. Truly. I'm proud of all of you. There won't be a service tomorrow, so enjoy yourselves. You've earned it."

Gordon waves before opening the door and stepping outside. I wish he'd stayed longer, but I know that the longer he's around me, the needier I get for his attention. I remind myself that there are only a few more days before I can openly be with him and stop having to hide my affection from the world.

From the crack in the door, Gordon winks at me subtly before the door completely closes. The paper he'd given me drifts back into the forefront of my mind. 

I have to know what he wrote.


	106. Redo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janice has something to ask of us, and we read Gordon's note!

Monday, July 15th, 2013

We spend the rest of the day drinking, playing pool, eating the delicious platters full of food, and reveling in our newly granted status of black jacket chefs. Unfortunately, there hasn't been a free moment to read Gordon's note. As the festivities wind down, I hear a knock at the door. I expect Gordon to make a reappearance, but instead, Janice's hawk-like eyes meet mine when she swings open the door.

"Abel. (Y/N). Time for your re-enactment," she holds out our old blue jackets to us. 

"Here?" I raise an eyebrow.

"No, of course not, you silly thing. Wherever you want, just make sure it feels genuine and is like whatever happened the first time. The audience is expecting to see you two begin dating. We can always put this portion before the black jacket challenges. Now hurry up!" she shakes the jackets at us.

Abel shrugs and puts down his plate of snacks before reaching for the jackets and handing mine to me. He then holds a hand out and I lace my fingers between his before we follow Janice out to the kitchens.

"So where is this going to feel the most authentic?" Janice asks, tapping her chin with her index finger.

"The dorm kitchen would be fine. (Y/N), start boiling some water on the stove so it looks like you're doing something when I arrive, OK?" Abel suggests.

"Sure, Abel. Don't make me wait long," I tease, following Janice up the stairs to the dorms.

"I couldn't even if I wanted to," he smiles, to which Janice rolls her eyes.

"Ugh, just get to it, I had to stay late to make sure this goes smoothly," she complains.

Now it is my turn to roll my eyes. _You didn't need this for anything but your precious ratings, Janice, so don't complain when you make yourself extra work._

"I'll see you in a few minutes," Abel kisses the top of my hand before releasing me and heading into the men's dorm. 

I switch out my black jacket for my blue one, handing my jacket to Janice before I set a pot to boiling. For extra authenticity, I place a box of noodles nearby and a few tomatoes on a chopping board. Janice stays in the far corner of the room, her eyes drilling holes into my back.

"Hey, what are you making?" Abel's voice catches my attention. 

I look up from my pot of boiling water at him. "Hey, Abel. Just some spaghetti for lunch."

"Do you mind if we talk for a second?" he asks, his eyes sparkling as he sits down on the couch.

"Sure!" I switch the stove off and move to sit next to him. Not too close, but close enough to where he could reach me if he wanted.

He dips his head and looks up at me, almost shyly. It's adorable, a small smile forms at the corner of my lips.

"So I don't know how to say this other than to just tell you. I like you. A lot," he rubs the back of his neck bashfully, "I'm not going to let you slip through my fingers, so I have to ask if you feel the same."

The sincerity in his voice makes me feel like this isn't just a re-telling of events for the camera. 

"I do, Abel. You've made it impossible not to feel the same," I scoot a little closer to him on the couch.

"Then you... wouldn't mind being my girlfriend?" he looks at me, hopefulness radiates off him.

"I would love to be your girlfriend," I respond, giggling. He's so cute like this.

What I don't expect is for him to close the space between us and lock his lips onto mine. This time, he doesn't hold back. His icy exterior melts away as he passionately pulls me into him. If his kiss was akin to a river before, the water in said river is now boiling. 

He caresses my face with one hand and pulls me against him . I expect him to pull away like he did the last time, stopping us before things get too far, but he doesn't. I let out a small whimper before I lace my fingers through his perfect hair and pull him even closer. 

"I still need to be able to air this on TV, you know!" Janice's shrill voice breaks our trance. We pull apart and glance over at her at the same time. Her face is flushed and she looks incredibly uncomfortable. Abel squeezes my thigh and gives me a subtle half-grin.

"Was that drama-filled enough for you?" Abel asks, slipping effortlessly into formality.

"That should be more than enough," she grumbles, "I didn't expect all that, is all."

"Neither did I," I respond, to which Abel laughs. 

"I was just following your directions, Janice. You did say to make it like the first time," he gives me a knowing glance, which flares my cheeks red.

"Alright, alright! Well, thank you anyway. I'm going to leave you two alone now. I'll put your black jackets right here," she sets the jackets on a nearby table, smooths down the front of her tan dress, then descends the stairs. 

When she is out of sight, I lean in towards Abel.

"That was, uh... wow," I gulp.

"Sorry I got a bit carried away, I was originally going to stop, but I couldn't help myself," his eyes drop down to my lips. 

"No no, it's totally OK. I... I liked it," I blush deeper scarlet. 

"Me too," he tilts his head, his mussed-up blond hair looking ever so attractive. "I don't do a lot of kissing, so it is good to hear that you enjoyed it as much as I did."

His words remind me that I wanted to ask him a question.

"Abel, why didn't you have a girlfriend when you came on this show?" 

He leans back into the sofa, drawing me against his side with his arm that is still wrapped around me.

"Ever since I was fifteen, I've been doing apprenticeships for Chefs and working in restaurants across the world. I didn't have the stability for a girlfriend. I was too busy even for long-distance," he trails his fingertips across my arm.

"So, you survived off hooking up with the cute girls wherever you visited, then?" I nudge his side playfully.

"Never," he responds plainly.

"Never what?"

"I never hooked up with anyone in the places I traveled to."

"Wait, how old are you? You've been traveling since you were fifteen?"

"I'm twenty-four, and yes."

Abel is the same age as I am? The thought had never crossed my mind. Aside from his flawless complexion, he doesn't look as young as he is. Maybe his personality being so much more refined and professional makes him appear older. 

I've been working all my life to get to where I am, and this trip to California was the first flight I've ever been on. Meanwhile, Abel has been traveling the world since the age that I was struggling to find the willpower to finish my math homework on time.

"Why did you travel so much?"

"My grandfather passed when I was fifteen. When he died, I felt no obligation to stay home anymore. I already knew I wanted to be a chef and I also knew I could never learn all that I wanted to learn by staying in one place," he shrugs, "My parents said as long as I continued school in one way or another, I could begin my apprenticeships. That's when I went to Germany. As soon as I learned their techniques, I moved on to France. Then Italy. And so on."

"How did you have the money for all that?" I blurt out. "Sorry if that was rude to ask," I mumble.

"Not at all. You are my girlfriend now, after all," he winks. 

"When my grandfather passed, my father got his possessions, he gave me his cash. I lived very modestly to stretch the money as far as I could. Since I kept moving along after learning, I didn't have very much. Books became my best friend."

"Wow. You must know so much at this point," I feel slightly jealous at the level of education he's been able to get, "Why did you join Hell's Kitchen if it'd stop you from being able to move around?"

"I'm ready to stop moving. I've learned so much, I want to put my experience where it truly matters. There is no chef I wanted to learn from more than Gordon Ramsay. If I can put all that I've studied into impressing him enough to get the head chef job in London, all that I've done with my adult life will have been worth it."

"I can get that," I nod, "I came here hoping to impress Chef Ramsay too."

He grins and hooks a loose hair of mine around his finger before draping it behind my ear.

"You've already accomplished that, I'm sure, if he's been watching the same woman I'm looking at now."

This time, I close the distance between us and press a kiss against his soft lips. I'm so engrossed in him that I don't hear the other chefs returning to the dorms.

"Enjoying paradise?" Bella's snarky tone breaks us apart. 

My head snaps over to her. "What?" 

"Well obviously my torment means nothing to you, here you are being all mushy while Dave has been kicked from the competition!"

"Come on Bella, they didn't know we were coming..." Taylor approaches behind Bella, placing one hand on her shoulder. Bella immediately shrugs her off and continues glaring at Abel and me.

"(Y/N) is supposedly better than Dave just because she made a stupid cauliflower in a spoon froufrou bullshit? She fucked up the two dishes beforehand much worse than Dave yet she gets to stay?" her angry eyes are red and puffy with tears.

"Bella, that's the competition. At some point, you and Dave would have been separated. It was bound to happen," Taylor tries to reason with her.

Bella completely ignores Taylor, jabbing her finger at us on the couch instead.

"Dave and I have been together longer. It was supposed to be us where you're at! Dave is gone and here you two are being... in love like... like how Dave and I are supposed to be right now!" she wails.

At hearing 'in love', I bow my head. We're not in love.

... Are we?

Before I can think any more about it, Bella stomps into the women's dorm and slams the door behind her. A stack of loose recipe sheets that had been resting on the kitchen counter are sent flying around the room.

Taylor, who is leaning against the far end of the sofa, shrugs when I meet her eyes. "Don't worry about her, hon."

A recipe paper floats over and lands beside me on the couch, reminding me of the note I still have yet to read.

"Abel, I'll be right back."

He nods, then makes to pick up the recipe sheets. I grab a few and stack them on the countertop before I take my black jacket from the table and rush into the bathroom.

Once I settle in, I reach into the pocket and take the note out.

'There will be maintenance on some of the cameras tomorrow morning.  
It will last for a few hours before the show.  
Meet me in the pantry at six.  
Leave your mic in your drawer.  
I love you, darling.'

I hold the note against my chest, tears forming in the corners of my eyes. 

I've made it to the black jackets. Gordon Ramsay loves me, and I'm in the final stretch of the competition that brought us both together. My mind flashes to Abel. The show brought all three of us together, I correct myself.

Gordon said there would be no service tomorrow, but I know there is not a day that goes by in which he doesn't cook up something for us to do. And I now have a pantry-date to look forward to. Rather than risking his note being found, I kiss the sentence where he wrote 'I love you' before tossing it into the toilet and flushing away the evidence.

My worries about Kalyani are thoroughly cleansed from my mind with the anticipation of what is to come. I rejoin the other chefs in winding down before bed.


	107. Pantry Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We sneak out to see Gordon in the pantry...

Tuesday, July 16th, 2013

I lay in bed with the covers pulled up to my chin and a secretive smile on my face. The clock beside me reads 5:45 am. I'm not sure when the cameras go out, but I figure if he wants to meet me at six that he would have factored in time to get dressed and ready.

Reaching into my drawer, my fingers trail over the black necklace box that Gordon had given me on our beach date. It feels so long ago, I wonder when the next chance I'll have to wear it will be? I shake my head to clear my daydreaming and pull out the first piece of clothing my fingers wrap around- a light blue tank top. I fish out the pair of grey leggings I'd worn when I met Tana for the first time and slip them on.

I crack open the door and peer outside. Abel is sitting on an armchair reading something, but no one else is out. With a wry grin, I tip-toe behind him before wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

"Surprise!" I whisper joyfully when he startles at my touch.

"Uncanny timing, in my book the main character is just about to be attacked. You almost gave me a heart attack," he says, but grins up at me. 

"If you knew they were gonna be attacked then you shouldn't have been worried," I shrug.

"Just because I know what is going to happen doesn't mean it isn't intense as I'm reading it," he counters, his light blue eyes equally as playful as I'm feeling.

"Alright, I can get that," I submit before resting my hands on his shoulders and squeezing.

He's looking up at me with a smile as I lean over him when I realize that I should probably tell him where I'm going.

I gesture at my chest where I normally pin my microphone and mouth the word 'mic' at him before holding my finger up to my lips. He catches onto what I'm requesting and covers his mic with his hand.

Even though he's covering the mic, I still lean down to his ear before I whisper, "I'm going to meet Ramsay downstairs. They turned off the cameras for a few hours. I should be back before people wake up, but would you cover for me if needed?"

He nods silently then uncovers his mic.

"Sleep well, (Y/N)," he says at full volume.

"Thanks, Abel. I'm just headed back to bed now," I say as I begin walking down the stairs.

"Wait, one second?" Abel's voice stops me in my tracks. I look up and take a few steps back as he stands from the armchair and meets me at the top of the steps.

"Huh? What is i-" he cuts off my question by wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me into a quick kiss. 

"OK, now you can sleep well," he releases me, his light blue eyes shining.

"Goodnight, Abel," I struggle to keep my voice even and wave as I head to the kitchens. He waves to me just as I dip below where I can see him.

My entire body feels giddy as I approach the pantry. I open the door, half expecting to see Gordon waiting on the other side, but I am greeted by packaged foods with the labels torn off and nothing else. 

There are no chairs in here, so I lean against one of the small sections of bare wall, waiting for him.

The door swings open a few minutes later. My heart flies up to my throat as Gordon strides into the pantry wearing his pristine head chef's jacket and sleek black chef's pants, closing the door behind him.

As I push off the wall, his eyes shift to the side and a wide grin spreads across his handsome face.

"My God, (Y/N), I've missed you so fucking much," he takes my hand and pulls me into his chest. Unlike the last time he held me against himself in the pantry, I'm joyful instead of broken. 

"I missed you too, Gordon. Those challenges were so intense, I was worried to death that I wouldn't make it..." I dig my fingers into his back, pulling him even closer.

"I can't say I wasn't worried too, but I knew you'd make it sweetheart," his voice rumbles deep in his chest, sending shivers across my body. I love his voice. I love the way he feels in my arms and the way he holds me. I love the warm and pleasant scent of him that I can only describe as Gordon. 

"There is one thing I neglected to ask you about when we last spent time together," he pulls me back from his chest and kisses my nose.

I think he's going to say something about Abel, or ask what we've been up to. Maybe the jealousy is too much for him and he'll want to ask me to cut all ties with Abel. My shoulders tense at the thought of having made him upset.

"What cars did you decide you wanted? One for here and one for the UK?" he asks.

Oh! I had completely forgotten about that. 

"I'm still not entirely comfortable asking you for something as expensive as a car, Gordon..." I mumble.

"Please, darling. Please let me get you something. I very much want to," he cups my face in his palms. Blush runs to my cheeks at the intensity of his pleading gaze.

"M-maybe a Jeep? Like the one my parents were going to give to me?" I respond hesitantly.

"A silver Jeep Wrangler?" he asks and I nod, impressed with his attention to detail.

"That sounds lovely, (Y/N)," he grins, "I'd be honoured to get you the car you were supposed to have so long ago. So what about your car for the UK, love? Have you put thought into it?"

"I don't know much about cars, Gordon, I really don't."

"Do you want me to pick for you?" he caresses my cheeks with his thumbs.

"If I give you free reign you might come back with something that costs way more than I would have dreamed of asking for," I give him a pointed look. 

Gordon chuckles. "Alright, alright! You caught me, I promise it won't be _too_ much."

"Then... alright," I let out my held breath and smile softly.

"I know just what to get you. Don't worry about a thing."

"Thank you, Gordon. You really are insanely sweet," I respond sheepishly. "How long do we have here before they turn on the cameras again?" I wonder, glancing at the camera in the corner. The red light isn't on, so I know it isn't recording yet. Despite that, though, the camera lens glints ominously, threatening to reveal our secret with it's beady, prying eye.

"The maintenance will be done at seven-thirty," he captures my chin with his fingers and turns me to looking at him again, "so we have an hour and a half before we need to be anywhere. I want those beautiful eyes on me as long as possible."

I smile, but my mind drags a question to center stage and demands that I ask it.

"I wanted to ask you about something," I start, removing my hands from around him and placing my palms on the front of his jacket.

"What is it?" he places his hands over mine.

Taking a deep breath, I muster up the courage to say what needs to be said. 

"I can tell that you're jealous, Gordon. I can see it in your eyes when Abel touches me or when we're together. If you aren't comfortable, I'll end it. You're the one I want, you've always been ever since you first asked me if I was single. I-"

"(Y/N)..."

"I need you to understand this because I don't want to ruin what we have and-"

"Love..."

"It is important to me that you know how much I love you. I can-"

"(Y/N), would you give me a moment to speak?" he asks, squeezing my hands. 

"Oh. Yes. Sorry," I mutter, dipping my head.

"Hey, look at me please."

I raise my head to lock eyes with his deep blue gaze.

"You're right. I am jealous."

A pang of guilt hits my heart.

"It's OK, Gordon. Abel understands this had a chance of not working out. I'll-"

"Calm down, would you? I need a moment to speak before you go off thinking I mean something different than what I've been trying to say."

"Oops, sorry!" I take one of my hands from under his and cover my mouth. 

He laughs then reclaims my hand, taking it from my lips and into his tender touch.

"What I've been trying to say is that jealousy isn't a negative feeling. It might be hard to separate it from thoughts of anger and betrayal, but at its pure form, it is a..." he pauses, a line forming between his eyebrows, "let me think how best to describe it," he draws me into his chest. I look up into his eyes curiously.

"It's like pure desire, energy, and excitement. I like knowing that he knows that he is allowed to appreciate you in a way that no other man but myself is. I like having the power to grant him your company, and I like that you enjoy being with him. It makes me feel like a King to have a woman so desirable that she has another man so enthusiastic to be with her. You're so special that he's willing to put himself out there in front of the world when he knows that you'll be revealed as being mine."

"What, really?" Shock courses through me, I almost take a step back, but his arms hold me tightly. "You... like being jealous?" The thought seems impossible.

He runs his thumb over my knuckles, his eyes still piercing. "It helps that I know I'm the man of your dreams. I know you've been following in my footsteps for so long that even if he were somehow a better cook or a more attractive man than I am, that you wouldn't see it that way. I know, as I said before, that you don't look only at the surface of who I am. You see deeply into me, you understand me in a way I would never have dreamed of asking for."

He smiles gently. "Besides, this isn't about you being mine or me being yours. This is about you and me being honest and true to each other, as my wife and I are," he places my hands on his sides and wraps his arms around me.

I nod. OK, this is starting to make some sense. I did feel very jealous of Tana when he kissed her, but it ignited my passion for him even stronger when she left. I felt like I had to touch him, to taste him, so that he understood how badly I needed him.

"I do covet you, but I also understand that I don't control you. I wouldn't want to take your freedom. True love isn't holding you away from the world, it is being by your side. I'll never let you go, but I also promise to never hold you back. I want you to be happy, and if he adds to your happiness, then that's even better."

He leans down and nips my earlobe lightly. "It also makes me want to fuck you like mad. I want to drive myself deep inside you until forget your name. I got so hard when I saw you two holding hands. I've never been more thankful to have a table in front of me. Good God, seeing you with someone else drives me insane with lust."

"Even just thinking about it now arouses those same feelings," He pushes himself up against me, proving his point with the bulge in the front of his chef's pants, "I once asked Tana's boyfriend why he wanted her and me together and he said- aside from making her happy- that she was too beautiful to not be shared. He knew I could give her what she needed when he was too soft and gentle with her for her tastes."

"Obviously, I know you don't struggle from the same lack of dominance what with having me and all," he grins and reaches down, I giggle as he takes hold of my thigh and I wrap my leg around him, "But Abel cares for you, I can see it. And sometimes Tana will want me to herself. If you had him to spend time with during those moments, I'm sure it would help just like Tana's boyfriend keeps her company while I'm away."

He leans down and kisses the side of my jaw. "Of course, I still need you to travel with me, so I hope he doesn't mind the anticipation of waiting for you to return. You'll have to ask him about it, yeah?" he whispers into my ear, sending tingles down my neck.

"OK, Gordon," my words come out in a pant, "I'll be sure to ask him..."

"Good girl," he growls, before pressing me against the pantry door.


	108. (*)Wherever you want Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordon and (Y/N) let their passions run wild...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone, have some smut ;D

Tuesday, July 16th, 2013

Gordon's passion radiates off him in waves of heat. My breath catches in my throat as the door to the pantry creaks when he leans further into me. 

"This is a bit too risky, isn't it?" I manage to gasp out as he kisses along my neck, his soft blond hair caressing my cheek.

"Maybe," he mumbles against the nape of my neck before pecking the skin lightly, "do you want me to stop?" his hand on my hitched leg's thigh moves higher.

"... No."

I squirm as his tongue traces the outline of my collarbone. It's early anyways, and the kitchen upstairs is stocked. No one should come down, and even if they wanted to, I know Abel would catch them.

"Good, because I don't know if I could stop anyways. You've been driving me absolutely mad," his voice is dredged in longing. I toss my head back, leaning into the silver door as he uses his free hand to lift the bottom of my shirt. His calloused fingertips send shock waves through my body as he traces my stomach.

"We," I pant, "shouldn't make the pantry smell like sex, Gordon."

He draws back from where he had been nuzzling into my neck with a sigh. His deep blue eyes are clouded with lust, which makes me bite my lower lip.

"Fuck, I suppose that makes sense," he groans, yet still grinds himself into me. "My office cameras didn't require maintenance though, so we can't go there." 

After a moment, he leans towards my ear, "I have an idea," his voice is husky.

"I could fuck you in the hallway..." his fingers slither down my back.

"Or I could ravage in the dining room over a table..." he hooks his finger into my waistband.

"Or maybe we could go outside and make love in the alley behind the restaurant..." he tugs my waistband tantalizingly.

My face keeps getting redder at each of his suggestions. All of them sound too dangerous to go through with, but my body is screaming at me to let him take me anywhere and everywhere.

"I could just," my fingers press into the soft skin of his neck as I lean into him, "suck your dick?" Ordinarily, I would have been too nervous to suggest something like that so boldly, but the ardent way he's exploring my body throws all my anxiety to the back of my mind.

"Mmh," he mumbles, "I really did want to lay you out over the chef's table though. You'd be the most delectable thing I've ever served," a playful smirk teases his lips.

"Not while the camera crew might be poking around, I can't hide under the chef's table like I did your desk that time Pietro walked in on us," I giggle. Pietro used to cause me so much anxiety and now I'm laughing at the memory. It feels good to let go.

"Alright, alright- if my little minx would like to suck my cock, who am I to deny her?" his tone is provocative and his gaze sends me to my knees.

"Thank you, Gordon," I whisper from in front of his slick black chef's pants as my excited fingers fumble with the zipper. 

"No, thank you (Y/N). You're incredible, you know that?" he says, running his fingers through my hair as I finally manage to pull his zipper down and drop his pants to the floor. His boxer-briefs are black and tight at the front. I press my lips to the bulge and feel the cotton fabric rub against my lips as he bucks into me with a small gasp.

"You're amazing too, Gordon," I trace my fingers across the outline of his impressive member, trying to commit the feeling to memory. The warmth and the subtle twitches beneath my fingertips coupled with his staggered breathing is euphoric. 

My hands find the sides of his boxer-briefs and I tug them down, holding my breath in anticipation as his hard cock slips from the confines of his underwear and stands in front of me, right at my parted lips. 

I wrap my fingers of my left hand around the warm base of his excitement and stroke it slowly and deliberately, feeling the smooth glide of his skin over his hardness. I kiss the tip of his head and glance up at my boyfriend through my eyelashes. His foggy eyes meet mine and he curls his fingers into my hair. I continue keeping eye contact as I move my lips to the tip of his cock before slowly taking him into my mouth. 

"Fuck, baby," he groans. His eyelids flutter, his head lolls back, and his grip on my hair tightens.

I roll my tongue over the head before taking more of him into my throat while pumping my left hand on his member. As he reaches deeper, tears prick the corners of my eyes and they close involuntarily. I use my tongue to trace the underside, feeling the soft and tight skin move with each roll of his hips.

Once my throat gets used to accommodating his fullness, I bob my head with the movement of my hand. The fingers of my right hand grip into his muscular thigh for balance as I pick up speed.

Just when I think he's going to cum, when he stiffens even harder in my mouth, he pulls back. His tip slips from my lips and I raise my head questioningly, my fingers still wrapped around him.

"Kitten, this isn't going to be enough for me," he mutters, running the fingers of his free hand through his hair.

He pulls me up from my knees by his hold on my hair until I'm standing in front of him breathlessly. He pulls my head into a tilt and leans down towards my ear.

"I need to fuck you," his breath tickles my earlobe, "the washrooms. The ones for the guests. They don't have any cameras in there and it is far from the camera crew. It's perfect."

Heat pours into my body at his words. "And the cameras in the dining room?"

"Are off until seven-thirty," he reassures me before gently releasing me from his grip. He pulls his pants back up but doesn't bother to zip the zipper before he twines his fingers with mine. I can't help but notice his hand is bigger and his grip more firm than Abel's. I'm under his command even though his touch is gentle.

I've never had sex in the bathroom. I always thought it would feel dirty, but the hygiene standards of Hell's Kitchen are much better than any other restaurant I've been in. Anything to do with Gordon is always held to the highest standards, so I imagine the restrooms are pristine.

Gordon hurriedly leads me through the dining room. My eyes dart everywhere looking for someone who might see us, but thankfully I don't spot anyone.

As I'd thought, the restroom he leads us into is beautiful. The sinks are pearly white with hand towels on rings instead of paper towel dispensers. A long, unbroken pane of mirror trails from above the sinks to the ceiling. The stall doors even reach the floor instead of stopping three-fourths of the way down, providing ample privacy.

But Gordon doesn't seem to want more privacy than absolutely needed. As soon as we step over the threshold into the restroom, he grips me by my waist with one hand and wraps his other hand over the back of my head before pressing me into the white-tiled wall. His hand keeps my head from hitting against the tile, and I admire his thoughtfulness even in our incredibly aroused state.

His lips meet mine voraciously and before I know it, we're both naked. I can't recall when his lips left mine, but they must have because our clothes are laying in a pile on the sink counters.

Gordon pulls me into him and I whimper into his lips as I feel his length press against my stomach.

"I need you so bloody much, (Y/N)..." he picks me up by my waist and carries me over to the sink counters. The countertop is cold but that fact is quickly forgotten as Gordon hovers over me, his gaze burning with desire.

"I appreciated the blowjob, but I need to be inside you, sweetheart..." he rubs his cock against my entrance tantalizingly.

"I- I need you inside me too," my eyelids flutter at the sensations he sends coursing through my body as he rocks against me. My arms wrap around the back of his neck and I feel tension building in my lower abdomen as the head of his length moves against my clit. 

"Please?" I beg, the sensations reaching heights that I can barely stand.

"Please what?" he torments me, his eyes sparking with mischief.

"Please fuck me," I beg, my eyes scrunching with pleasure as he continues to press against my opening, yet he doesn't fulfill my wish. Some part of my mind registers what he's waiting to hear. "Sir. Please fuck me Sir, please, please, pl-"

My eyes roll back as he thrusts himself into me fully without giving me a moment to realize what is happening. A guttural moan escapes my lips, but I'm too lost in the feeling of being entirely filled by the man I love to begin to care.

I can't hold myself up anymore, so I release his neck and lay my back against the cool surface of the countertop. I raise my arms over my head and place my hands against the wall, pressing back greedily against him to feel him deeper.

He leans forward and takes my left nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue over the sensitive skin and causing me to arch my back off the counter. He then moves his right hand to my other breast and pinches the nipple between his fingers, eliciting a hiss from between my clenched teeth.

Gordon's mouth releases my nipple with a final flick of his tongue before he meets my barely-focused eyes.

"Cum for me, love. I want to feel you squeeze me," he urges before moving his left hand down to my clit and moving in small circles. His touch almost too much for me to bear, I bite down on my inner cheek to keep myself from squealing with pleasure.

My arms begin to shake and my toes curl. I feel myself come undone under his skillful lead, incredible dick, and talented fingers. He slows down, giving me a moment to catch my breath before he pulls himself from me. I immediately feel empty and reach up to draw him back into me with a pout.

"Soon, pet. Flip over for me..." he commands.

"Yes, Sir," I scramble off the counter and lay down, my breasts pressing against the now-warm countertop. I'm met with my fervorous gaze in the mirror above the sinks. My cheeks are red, my eyes are unfocused, and my lips are slightly puffy from the aggressive kisses we shared. But it isn't my appearance that captures my attention- it's the voracious look in Gordon's eyes as he watches me like a hungry predator, stroking himself. I observe as his eyes trail across my body, igniting my skin with heat.

He grabs my legs suddenly and I gasp as he pulls them up to where my knees are against his hips. I lock my ankles together behind his back at the same moment he pushes back into me. 

"God, you feel incredible," he praises before picking up speed. My vision goes cloudy as his stiff cock presses against my aching inner walls. My fingers slip across the smooth countertop as I scramble for something to hold and when I find nothing, I ball my hands into fists. From how he's holding me, it feels like I'm nearly weightless as his thrusts push me forward and back across the counter. How does this feel so impossibly good? Every atom in my body is buzzing with energy, screaming his name, pulling towards him. I don't just want him, I _need_ him. 

"I love you, Gordon," I breathe between moans of pleasure.

"And I love you," he responds between thrusts, trailing his fingers down my back before gripping my hips and pulling me against him. He floods my insides with his warmth, pulsing inside of me- each pulse melting me under his fingertips until the only feeling I can decipher is that of utter satisfaction. 

He pulls out from me and I set my feet on the floor shakily. He slaps my butt with one open palm, grinning as I yelp and skitter until I'm standing facing him with a fictitiously disgruntled look on my face.

"What was that for?" I stick my lip out, secretly enjoying the prospect of his red hand-print on my skin.

He responds by leaning down and capturing my lip in his teeth, pulling a bit before releasing his hold with a smirk. He is so insanely handsome when he's freshly fucked... I like how no one else gets to see him like this but his wife and me.

"Oh, just enjoying your assets," his eyes twinkle. 

I slap his chest playfully and he captures my hand in his, bringing my knuckles to his lips and kissing them. My cheeks bloom red at his wide smile that is revealed when he moves my hand from his mouth.

"I should probably make use of the facilities," I motion to the bathroom stall with my free hand.

"Or you could just walk naked back to the dorms with my cum dripping down your leg," he suggests, his tone all too serious as he leans against the bathroom counter, his bangs tousled, looking alluring as ever.

"That would be one way to announce our relationship to everyone," I snicker before taking my hand from his and heading towards the stall. I enter the stall and begin to close the door, peeking at him through the crack. He's craning his neck to peer in the closing door and smiles at me when I catch his eye.

I can't stop myself from grinning as I clean up. He passes me my clothes over the top of the stall and a few moments later, I emerge from the bathroom. Gordon is already dressed as well and holds his arm out to me.

"How much longer do we have?" I ask as I loop my arm with his.

"Just a few more minutes, sweetheart," he frowns, "I'll take you back to the stairs."

I lean my head into his arm as he leads me towards the stairwell. Once we reach the steps, he pulls me into a daring kiss- anyone could have peered over the staircase and seen us together- before he releases me and winks before turning on his heel towards the kitchens _,_ leaving me in a breathless and satisfied daze. _  
_


	109. Platter Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We cook for our platter challenge!

Tuesday, July 16th, 2013

When I turn the corner from the top of the stairs, Abel's eyes lock onto mine. He's still sitting in his armchair, but I can hear the sounds of the women getting ready coming from the bathroom and the red dorms.

Abel pushes himself out of the chair and strides towards me. He's wearing his black jacket with the sleeves rolled up, looking like a true professional chef. I glance down at my blue tank top and grey leggings with a hint of embarrassment. I should have put on my jacket before I left. 

When Abel reaches me, he places a hand on either side of my shoulders.

"Morning (Y/N), Chef Christina called a few minutes ago and asked us to get ready," he covers his mic furtively with his left hand, "I told them you woke up and came to sleep in the men's dorm, considering it's only me there now. So if anyone asks, that's what you were doing. Go on and get dressed," he nods towards the red dorms.

"Thank you, Abel," I whisper back, to which he smiles subtly before releasing his hold on me and returning to his chair.

I head into the women's dorm and close the door behind me. Bella is sitting cross-legged on her bed, rolling a cigarette around in her fingers. She's wearing her black jacket too, but it isn't nearly as prim and neat as Abel's- there are wrinkles down the front and the lapel is unbuttoned.

"Before you say shit about the cig, I'm not going to smoke it. I really want to, though. Badly," Bella groans before falling back onto the bed.

"I wasn't-" 

"Don't give me that 'I wasn't going to' bullshit. Even if you didn't say anything, I can read you judging me on your face."

I bite my tongue. It seems without Dave, Bella has lost some of the politeness she'd gained over the last few weeks. I grab my black jacket and a pair of black chef's pants from my dresser drawer before heading into the closet to change.

"I had to quit both smoking and drinking for this baby, I don't even have Dave here to keep motivating me to get over my habits," Bella's strained voice reaches me through the closet doors, "I thought this place was bad before, but now it literally is hell for me. I know I came here to be a chef, but this is more like boot camp. And now I don't have anything to distract me from missing him."

I hear the bed sheets rustle and when I emerge from the closet, Bella is curled up into a ball with her unlit cigarette between her pink lips.

"I've always had bad self-control, (Y/N)," she continues talking around the cigarette as I button up my coat, "it's why I got into drinking and cigarettes in the first place. It's also why I've cheated on every boyfriend I've had before Dave. I'm a mess and I need him to help keep me on the right track. And if not him, I need a fucking cigarette to calm my nerves," she grinds the palms of her hands into her eyes.

"You can last a few more days until the competition is done, then you and Dave will be back together again," I try to comfort her as I clip on my mic.

" _Will_ we be together again? He's from Missouri and I'm from Washington. We're almost on opposite ends of the United States from each other. My mom takes care of Becca for me, and Dave has his own life in Missouri," her voice cracks, "I don't know that our baby will be enough to make him come to Washington and if he doesn't, I'll have to move across the states to be with him. And I'm scared. I'm so scared we won't last, because nothing ever has lasted for me before, and I won't have my mom to help me with Becca anymore if I leave Seattle."

The cigarette drops from her lips and falls off the side, rolling under the bed. 

"Did you guys not talk about what you were going to do after the show if you don't win?" I ask, leaning against the wall.

"I mean, we talked, and he said he'd come to me, but he hates the cold and he wouldn't have his job anymore and Seattle is expensive. I don't even have a job, (Y/N). I was so irresponsible before I came here and met him," she unfurls herself and leans over the bed, feeling around for her dropped cigarette, "I feel like I should show him I'm dependable by moving to be with him, but I'm so fucking scared," her fingers find the cigarette and she pulls it back up, setting it on the bedside table. 

"I'm scared of moving, I'm scared of being alone, and most of all I'm scared of being a mom. Sure, I gave birth to Becca, but I was never there for her," the honesty in her voice is jarring and I feel my eyes begin to water.

"You have to take a leap of faith. Dave did with you, even after you made him upset, he forgave you and he clearly cares for both you and the baby. If you think that moving in with him will show your commitment, I'd do it. Especially if you don't have anything to go back to in Seattle but your mom," I move off the wall and step towards her, holding out my hand.

She gives me a wary look before tentatively reaching her hand out to me. I take it and help pull her from the bed.

"I'll think about it some more, (Y/N). Thank you. Sorry for being a bitch earlier," she shrugs with a half-smile as I release her hand.

"I'm used to it at this point," I elbow her side with a teasing grin, "now come on, let's go see what Gordon has cooked up for us."

Bella and I emerge from the dorms as Red and Taylor's heads disappear down the stairs. Abel waits at the top, his eyes following Bella and me. 

"Just on time," he holds a hand out. I take it gratefully and lace my fingers with his. Bella passes in front of us and we follow her down the stairs, through the kitchen, and out into the dining room. We line up outside the kitchen, Abel still holding my hand.

A few moments later, Gordon opens his office door. My eyes trail down his body- not a single hair out of place. If I hadn't just been bent over for him, I wouldn't have believed that he had been ravaging me in the bathroom an hour earlier.

"Good morning, Chefs!" he calls out as he walks down the stairs, "I was just on the phone with a few incredibly important critics that will be stopping by to vote on their favorite dish from the lot of you chefs. The winner of today's contest will win something amazing, let me tell you."

He reaches the bottom of the stairs and smooths out his coat. "How many of you have seen a platter of food that made your mouth water? Maybe a cheese board during Thanksgiving, or a snack platter at a party?"

We all raise our hands. Gordon's eyes follow my hand in the air to my hand that is still in Abel's grasp. I recall what Gordon had said about how it made him feel to see us touching and feel my ears begin to burn. I clear my throat and, in that process, attempt to clear my mind.

"Excellent," he grins, "today we will be working on making our own incredible platters. You'll have one hour to prepare one platter with enough food to provide a snack-sized meal to ten people. Make anything you like, and try to put your personal twist on the dish. Let's not waste any more time," he rubs his hands together excitedly, "your hour starts... Now!"

We take off for the kitchen and stop at the pass to look over the ingredients laid out for us. I have to make a shareable platter that looks great as a whole and beautiful as a standalone.

I've been enjoying the freedom that comes with being in the final group of chefs and working with fewer constraints, but I know that Gordon is going to be that much more meticulous about the food we present. I have to give a hundred percent into everything I cook, and I certainly can't make any big mistakes after my rice fiasco.

I should select a platter before I start considering what to fill it with. Gordon has provided rectangular cutting boards, large wooden serving platters, long and shallow pans, and even pizza peels- the wooden tool used to move pizzas in and out of the oven.

A circular wooden board will give a nice boost to whatever is put in the very center. If I position the food in such a way that it points towards the middle, it'll make the centerpiece that much more appetizing.

As for how my platter could best suit me, I think back to my signature dish- pan-seared scallops with white wine tarragon sauce and bacon bits on top. I've always been fond of seafood, so making a seafood platter would be a good expansion on my signature dish. The amount of talent and effort to prepare a fully-cooked platter layout would be incredibly impressive to Gordon as well.

I take my wooden board to my station and head back to the ingredients. I have to make just enough to provide a sample plate to ten people. 

One live lobster, six clams, six prawns, six mussels, three oysters, one Maryland blue crab, and four scallops in shells should be enough to provide ample food to each person and show a wide variety of my talents in one place.

I've got to get started on the aspects of my platter that will take the longest. I set one oven to 350 and a second oven to 425 degrees Fahrenheit, then place a deep pot filled with water on the stove and set it to boiling.

I dice some white bread, add it to a bowl, and pour coconut milk over it. It has to sit for twenty minutes to be used for the stuffed crab shell. I set my prawns in a bowl with some garlic and olive oil, tossing it to coat them and absorb the flavors and set the bowl next to my bread with coconut milk.

Now for the part that gets me squeamish... Gordon always brings in the freshest ingredients, and fresh in this case means live crab and lobster. After sharpening my blade, I take a deep breath and lay my chilled lobster out on a cutting board, placing my chef's knife right behind its eyes. In one swift movement, I cut through the head then continue cutting through the tail until the lobster splits. After cleaning the insides out and separating the meat, I discard all parts of the shell. I know people say that the nervous system of lobsters and crabs are less developed than insects, but still. Sorry, little guy.

I've got to split my crab. To keep the shell intact for the stuffed crab shell I'm planning on, I flip the chilled crab over onto its back. This time I'll need a long, metal object to insert. Thankfully, Gordon has a seafood pick, so I place the pick in the vent of the crab and hammer it in with my palm before wiggling it around. This both kills the crab and destroys its nervous system. Lastly, I place the seafood pick between the crab's eyes and drive the pick into the soft part under the main shell. 

I drop my crab into the now rolling boil of the deep pot for twenty minutes. I set a second large saucepan to boil for my next step. While all of this cooks, I grab my oysters and mussels and take them to the sink to scrub and shuck them.

Once they are clean, I place the scallops in the boiling pan's water to poach. As they poach, I melt two tablespoons of butter in a separate pan, add panko crumbs, and stir them until they brown before pouring the crumbs into a bowl. In a separate bowl, I mix two tablespoons of softened butter, chives, lemon juice, and lemon zest together.

Now I drain the scallops, sprinkling them with salt and reserving a cup of liquid. In a large skillet, I sauté mushrooms and shallots in butter until they are tender, then add the scallops back in for another two minutes.

While the scallops are cooking, I top my shucked oysters with the butter and chives mixture and sprinkle panko crumbs on top and set them in the oven set to 425 degrees for ten minutes. I remove my scallops from the burner.

My forehead sweats from all the heat and exertion of trying to time everything perfectly, but I can't give up. I have to prove that the mistakes during the black jacket challenges were just that- mistakes. They won't define me.

With new conviction, I work on my scallop sauce. I melt butter and stir in flour until it is smooth, gradually adding in the poaching liquid and some milk, then bring the mixture to a boil for two minutes until it thickens. I stir in some Romano cheese, salt, sherry, lemon juice, pepper and lemon zest to the sauce and divide the sauce among the scallop shells. Finally, I sprinkle them with the panko mixture before popping them in the 350 degree oven for ten minutes.

I pull my scallops from the oven to cool, thinking about how my crab should be done soon. In preparation for it, I melt butter over low heat in a saucepan and add flour, stirring until it turns golden brown. I transfer the flour to a bowl and season it with salt and pepper, setting it aside for later. 

My crab should be cooked now. I grab him out of the boiling water with tongs and use the seafood pick to pry open the shell. I set the top shell aside and crack the crab apart, scooping out as much meat as possible into a bowl.

In a medium saucepan, I work on the crab stuffing by heating warm olive oil over low heat and adding in diced onion, green peppers, and yellow peppers. Once they are soft, I add garlic and cook for an additional minute. Cherry tomatoes come shortly after, followed by dry white wine and the bread soaked in coconut milk. Midway through this process, I pull the oysters from the oven and set them aside to cool.

I turn off the heat and add my crab meat, salt, pepper, mustard, butter, cilantro, and lemon juice. I fold the mixture carefully to keep the lumpy crab meat intact. Once it is combined, I place the mixture into the top of the crab shell, sprinkling the golden flour over the top and put it into the oven set to 350 degrees for fourteen minutes.

Here is where things get tricky. More than thirty minutes have passed and I'm reaching the point where I have to cook everything with no mistakes whatsoever. I set three pans out on the stove- one for my lobster, one for my clams, and one for my mussels. 

In the pans for the mussels and clams, I set the heat to medium-high and add butter, shallots, and garlic. Once the shallots and garlic are soft, I add tomatoes to the mussels pan and wine and lemon juice to both pans, bringing the pans to a boil. 

Once they reach a boil, I get started on my lobster by adding in a few tablespoons of water to the lobster pan and simmering it over medium heat. I whisk in butter until it melts cleanly without separating. Once my butter is completely added, I remove my crab shell from the oven and set it aside to cool.

Now the final test of my skill. I add the clams, mussels, and lobster to each individual pan, covering the mussel and clam pans with lids. While they steam, I set a skillet out and set it to high heat. Once it begins to smoke, I add in my now-flavorful prawns and toss them, adding wine after a minute of cooking. While all of this is going on, I continue to toss each pan and make sure that nothing is burning. 

"Ten minutes remain!" Gordon's voice calls out into the kitchens. My focus stays steady on the task at hand. When the clams and mussels open, I remove them from the heat and when my prawns turn deliciously pink, I remove them from the heat as well.

It takes me a few minutes to get everything set up on the platter, but once I finish it looks absolutely stunning. My lobster is the centerpiece; I set the meat out carefully and brush it with butter to make it shine. My prawns sit facing towards the lobster's sides and back, while the stuffed crab shell sits between the lobster's claw meat. I fan out the mussels, clams, oysters, and scallops across the board and squeeze fresh lemon juice on top of everything as well as adding lemon slices for a bit of color. The final touch is a sprinkle of parsley on my shelled delicacies. 

"Time!" Gordon's voice booms. I set my platter carefully at the pass and puff my chest out proudly when he looks my way with a smile. I've never made a platter before, but I can't imagine anyone else has made anything more delectable than what I've exerted myself over. 

I double, triple, and quadruple check that I didn't forget anything. This time, I know I'm going to win this.


	110. Meeting the Judges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet the judges of our platter competition!

Tuesday, July 16th, 2013

Gordon has us set out our domed platters on a long table in front of the kitchens. I didn't pay any attention to anyone else while I was cooking so I have no idea what everyone else has made- but I still feel confident that my platter is going to win.

We line up in front of the platter table. Taylor is to my left grinning widely and Abel is calmly watching Gordon approach us, his hands clasped behind his back. 

"Well done, everyone. Our special guest judges have arrived, excited?" he rubs his hands together and his eyes flit between us.

"Yes, Chef!" we shout.

"Excellent. Now, remember, they mustn't know who made which platter until after they have voted, yeah?" 

"Yes, Chef!"

"Good! Let me introduce our judges, then. First up, we have a lovely grandmother from Seattle with her assistant chef. She has been cooking since the age of ten and taught her daughter everything she knows. Please welcome Beatrice Fitzgibbons and her adorable assistant, Becca Fitzgibbons!" Gordon opens his arm towards the door at the same moment that Bella squeals. 

"Mom!" Bella takes off towards the door as it opens. A middle-aged woman steps through the threshold with a little girl on her hip. Bella, her mother, and her three-year-old daughter look like the same person at different stages of life. Beatrice is dressed in a beautiful white cocktail dress and Becca is wearing a matching outfit with little white Mary Jane shoes. 

"Bells, I'm so proud of you!" Beatrice gives her daughter a one-armed hug at the same time that Becca smoothly transfers herself from her grandmother's hip to her mother's. 

"Hi Mommy," Becca gives Bella a charming smile. Tears bud in Bella's eyes as she nuzzles Becca's nose.

"Hey Beccabear, have you been being good for Geegee?" she asks.

"Uh-huh," Becca bobs her head eagerly.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Fitzgibbons, and of course, Becca," Gordon kisses Beatrice's cheeks before he takes Becca's tiny hand in his and shakes it in greeting. "Go on and take a seat, ladies," Gordon says as he motions to a nearby table. 

Gordon is so cute with children. I love that he treats them as little people instead of ignoring them or treating them like they are nuisances like some adults do. I can't wait until we have our own little one that gets to call such an amazing man 'Daddy'.

"Our next pair of judges hail from Oklahoma City," Gordon starts.

Taylor's eyes widen as she brings both hands to her mouth. 

"One is a graphics designer, while the other is a lumberjack and woodcarver. Both enjoy hearty meals and are even heartier people. Please welcome Eduard and Lance Holbrook!" Gordon claps as they push through the double doors. 

The first man through is stocky with a long brown beard, scruffy hair, and green eyes. I presume him to be Taylor's father. Shortly after him follows her brother Lance. He is taller than both Tay and their father, but shares the same hazel eyes and tan skin-tone of his sister.

Taylor takes off towards the two men, holding out her arms and flinging herself into her father. 

Her dad is shorter than Tay, but he doesn't even flinch as he catches her full-force body slam into his arms. Taylor's brother pats Tay's back with a chuckle as she kicks her feet off the ground and leans into her father.

When Taylor releases her dad, she hugs her brother and beams up at him, then takes their hands and leads them towards an open booth before Gordon can say anything.

"Nice to meet you both," Gordon waves to the Holbrooks as Taylor plops into the booth between her father and brother.

I hear a small sniffle coming from my left and look over towards the source. Now that Taylor is seated, Red is beside me. She wipes her eyes on the cuff of her black jacket before looking up at me with watery eyes.

I recall that Red had broken down once early on, telling us about the fight she'd had with her fiancé about coming to this show. Something about how he thought it was all for attention instead of displaying her prowess in the kitchen. A sour feeling sets in my gut. What if he shows up and he's still angry with her? 

... What if he doesn't show up at all?

Without thinking, I hold my arm out to her and she curls against my side gratefully. Abel glances down at us with a small frown before he looks back up when Gordon starts speaking again.

"Our next group of judges are all heroes in one form or another. They come from Maine and Vermont respectfully," I feel Red tense against my side at Gordon's words, "Both women are elementary teachers for a combined total of forty years. Accompanying them is a firefighter who has saved countless lives and livelihoods. Please welcome Mary's mother, Sarah McCarthy, her grandmother, Emily McCarthy, and her fiancé, Thomas York!" Gordon claps as the doors swing open.

Shocks of frizzy red hair capture my eyes immediately. Red's mother has short red curls in a bob around her round and cheery face while her grandmother has a long red braid that trails down her back. Both have green eyes and warm expressions that make me want to run up and hug them as well. 

Red releases my side and carefully walks towards the two women, pulling them both into a group hug. Soon after she releases the pair of women, her fiancé ducks through the door. 

Thomas is a tall black man with deep brown eyes and a square jaw. He towers over the 6'2" Gordon Ramsay. If I had to guess, he'd be about 6'6". I have no idea how he even managed to see the short and dainty Red to ask her out in the first place.

Red releases her family and timidly looks up at Thomas. His expression is neutral until he meets her eyes and a smile spreads across his face. 

"Hello, mouse," he says. His voice is deep and booming and I take a step towards Abel subconsciously. 

"Hey, lion," she responds shyly, her voice barely above a whisper as she drops her eyes to the floor.

"Come here," he holds his arms out and she steps towards him hesitantly. "I'm not mad anymore, mouse. I was stupid to have thought you wanted fame and attention. I know you're not like that. I've been watching the show and you've done nothing but prove your greatness over and over again. I'm proud of you."

When Red reaches him he picks her up into his arms and spins her around. She lets out a tiny giggle, which grows when he begins to laugh too. 

"I was so worried you wouldn't come. I thought you might leave me," she says as he sets her back down on the floor.

"Leave you?" Red's grandmother pipes up, "He was a wreck without you. He's been crying every night after you left."

"Mam!" Red's mother slaps Red's grandmother's arm gently, "don't go airing his business out on TV!" 

Red's grandmother shrugs. "She cried on TV over him, it's only fair that the people know that he cried over her too."

Gordon approaches the small family, stopping in front of the women. "It is lovely to meet you all. Red is such a wonderful person, I can see where she gets it from," he leans down and kisses their cheeks before shaking hands with Thomas. "Go on and take a seat, we're almost through with introducing the judges."

Red and her family take a seat in a booth next to Bella's. I look up at Abel, who is watching the door intently. 

Somewhere deep down, I feel sadness pooling in my heart. I don't have anyone to come to see me. I don't have a mom, a dad, or grandparents anymore. I'll be standing here like a sad and lonely mess while everyone else has a family to dote on them and give them praise for having made it so far. I try to ignore my burgeoning despair as Gordon starts speaking again.

"Our final judges are visiting us from the great state of Texas. One is a curator for a museum, his wife is a veterinarian and their little girl is in school to become an actress. Please welcome Atlan Warren, his wife Evelyn and their daughter, Jane!" Gordon turns towards the entrance to Hell's Kitchen with a sweep of his arm.

My curiosity piques as the doors push open and Abel's mother and father step in holding hands. Abel's father is the same height and has the same hairstyle as Abel, but its jet black instead of blond. His piercing blue eyes leave no doubt where Abel inherited his striking gaze from. He's wearing a navy suit with a black tie and white undershirt, looking as dapper as Abel did the first day I saw him. Abel's mother is shorter than her husband and absolutely beautiful in a green dress. She has light blonde hair and brown eyes that sparkle when she sees her son. Trailing behind them is a gorgeous girl who resembles a model, almost as tall as her father and wearing slim-fit blue jeans with a red halter top. She's got long, wavy black hair, brown eyes, and a hint of a smile as she catches sight of her brother. 

I expect Abel to leave my side and go greet them, but he doesn't. Instead, he surprises me by linking hands with me and leading me towards his family. My face flushes as we begin walking towards them, and even more so as we pass by Ramsay, who watches me pass with a knowing half-smile.

"Mom, Dad, Jane, this is my girlfriend (Y/N)," Abel introduces me as we reach his family.

"Pleasure to meet you," his father Atlan holds out a hand to me and I take it. He has a firm grip and shakes once before releasing me. 

"Abel, you look well, son," Atlan holds out a hand to him. Abel glances at his hand before he passes by it entirely, instead opting to hug him briefly. Atlan pats a hand on Abel's back before they separate and Abel turns to his mother.

"You're beautiful, young lady," his mother Evelyn hugs me. She smells like honey and lavender. 

"Thank you, Evelyn," I say as we break our hug and she moves to hug Abel in turn. 

"Oh dear, you're welcome to call me Mom. I was so surprised when I saw Abel had a girlfriend," she beams as I meet her shining gaze from where she's leaned into her son with one arm around his back. 

"Yeah, I thought he was going to take a vow of celibacy or something," Jane rolls her eyes playfully before offering me a hug. When we break the hug, Abel is squinting his eyes at her and she sticks out her tongue at him.

Gordon approaches us and shakes Atlan's hand, then kisses Evelyn's cheeks. When he bends down to kiss Jane's cheeks, her confident expression falters for a moment and I see the tiniest tinge of pink in her complexion. Oh girl, do I know that feeling...

"Please take a seat and chat for a bit, we'll be passing around plates and then you'll all pick from each of the five available platters. Until then, catch up on what all has been going on, yeah? Enjoy yourselves," Gordon nods to us before turning towards the kitchen.

Abel's family and I take the booth along the wall next to Taylor's booth. His mother and father end up in the middle seats, Abel is next to his mother, then me by him, while Jane sits beside her father. 

I'm so incredibly thankful that Abel brought me with him to join his family. If I had to stand all by myself up there, I surely would have cried. He rests a hand on my thigh and gives me a warm smile. Thank God for Abel.


	111. Hey Platter Platter...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our platters are finally judged!

Tuesday, July 16th, 2013

As we settle into our booth, I glance around the room. To our left is Taylor and her family and to our right, Bella and her mother are seething at each other. Their collective tenseness radiates from them in waves while Bella's little girl looks around the room, blissfully unaware. I can't see any further from where I'm seated, but I can hear the deep laughter of Red's fiancé over the other table's chatter without even trying.

Taylor catches my eye and wiggles her fingers, then elbows her brother and points at me. Lance does a half-wave and I wave back with a small smile.

Evelyn clears her throat and I turn to look at her, still smiling.

"It's wonderful to meet the first girl to ever steal my son's heart," Evelyn starts, "Please treat him well. He's a good boy."

"She is great to me, Mom, but she didn't steal my heart. I gave it to her," Abel says, lacing his fingers with mine. My heart flutters in my chest at his warm words.

"I'm glad you've never had a girlfriend meet us before so I didn't have to hear you be all mushy-gushy like this," Jane lets out an exaggerated sigh then an "Ow!" when Abel lightly kicks her shin under the table. 

Gordon moves from Taylor's table to Red's table in my peripheral vision. Abel squeezes my hand, drawing my attention gently.

"I know Ramsay already introduced everyone, but I feel like I should still let you know a little about them," Abel gestures to his sister across the table, "She's Jane, my little sister, and aspiring actress. We usually only spend time together on holidays since I've been taking apprenticeships, but that doesn't stop her from spending half that time bickering with me."

"What can I say? There aren't too many people that can keep up in a verbal spar, and I like to hone my talents," Jane sticks out her tongue at Abel before shooting me a dazzling grin.

"Then there's my father," Abel nods to Atlan. "He's dedicated his life to collecting and researching artifacts from around the world and displaying them for the general public at Texas's second-largest museum."

"There is much to be learned in our history, young lady," Atlan sets his hands on the table and steeples his fingers, "One can only hope to prevent our failures from repeating themselves by learning from our past mistakes."

"I can certainly understand that," I nod.

"For your sake and the sake of the world, I hope so," Atlan's eyes are steely.

"Oh honey, please, no apocalypse talk at the table, don't go frightening Abel's girlfriend away!" Evelyn lays her hand on Atlan's arm and he glances over at her.

"Sorry for Atlan's dramatism, I think Jane must have inherited her theater talents from her father," she pats his arm, "I'll go ahead and introduce myself. I'm Evelyn, but you can call me Mom or Mama, as Abel used to when he was very little."

She absentmindedly runs her fingertips across Atlan's arm. "I'm a veterinarian for exotic species.  You know, like iguanas, sugar gliders, and mice. Those sorts of cuties."

"Do you guys have any pets? Exotic or not?" I ask.

"We do! We have a Fennec fox named Quicksilver, or just Silver. He was abandoned at the front door of the vet's office in a carrier crate. It didn't take but one look into his little cage to fall in love with him," Evelyn beams as she recalls her little fox. "Abel hasn't met him yet, but he's seen my countless videos and pictures of him so he knows him well enough. I'd show you a picture, but we weren't allowed to bring our phones in."

"Sometimes I think she loves him more than she loves me," Jane laments, pouting.

"Well, he listens a lot better than you do, Missy, so don't be surprised if his pictures end up in the baby books pasted over yours!" Evelyn teases.

Abel's mother and sister continue playfully bickering. I hear an argument stirring and find myself tuning into Bella's conversation.

"Bells, I can't believe you'd be so irresponsible as to get pregnant with a man you barely know," her mother scolds.

"I knew you would bring that up," Bella groans.

"How could I not? You're going to be leaving me with another baby to raise while I'm supposed to be enjoying my retirement!"

"Actually, _mom_ , Dave and I are going to stay together. And I do know him, better than I've known any of the boys I've been with."

" _Mmhm_ , I've heard that story before," I can practically hear Bella's mother's eyes rolling in her head.

"Did you come here to support me or insult me? Because right now you're really not helping," Bella clenches her teeth.

"New baby?" Becca chimes in from beside her mom, interrupting their argument.

"Yes, honey. You'll be a big sister!" Bella cheerfully responds.

"New daddy?" the hope in Becca's voice is unmistakable.

"Yes, Beccabear. The best new daddy in the world. He's going to love both of us and your new brother or sister so much," the hope in Bella's voice matches her daughter's to a tee.

Chef Ramsay strides across the room, making his way to Bella's table.

"Good to meet you ladies," Gordon charms Bella's mother, who's features immediately brighten.

"Well hello there, Chef," Beatrice flutters her eyelashes at him. I have to stop myself from laughing at the sheer number of similarities between Bella and her mom.

"I couldn't help but hear you discussing Bella's boyfriend, and I wanted to offer my professional opinion on him, as his mentor."

Beatrice sets her elbows on the table and rests her chin on her knuckles. "Alright, what do you think of him?"

Gordon sits down at the booth next to Bella's mother, much to her delight.

"Dave is one of the most genuine people I've ever met. He and Bella have been through a lot of trials together and both of them have come out stronger for it. He's kind, loyal, and truly fun to be around. Bella couldn't have met a better man, and their baby will have nothing to worry about."

I can't see Bella's face from where she's seated, but I don't need to. Her mother is at rapturous attention listening to Gordon, believing every word he says. She has to feel better after such a strong approval from Gordon himself about Bella's boyfriend.

"I'll leave you ladies to it, yeah? We'll be handing out plates soon," Gordon pushes himself from the table, waves to Becca, then approaches our booth.

"It is good to meet the Warren family, your son is quite the Chef," Gordon compliments. There isn't enough space for him to sit with us, so he places his palms on the table and leans against it.

"Thank you, Chef," Abel bows his head.

"We always knew he was incredible, but it sure is wonderful to hear it said from one of the greatest chefs of all time," Evelyn smiles and leans into Abel's shoulder.

"And (Y/N), you're quite the proficient Chef yourself. Both of you have made me so very proud."

Gordon's eyes lock onto mine and I feel my temperature rise as I sheepishly accept his compliment with a "Thank you, Chef."

Gordon rises to his full height and nods to us before backing away from the table, making space for Sous Chef Scott to approach.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Abel and (Y/N) need to head to the dorms while you enjoy your food. We'll regroup after you are done eating," Scott nods his head in the direction of the kitchens.

"It was good meeting you all," I say as I scoot out of the booth. Abel follows behind me.

"Good to meet you too, dear," Evelyn says brightly, waving to us. Atlan and Jane both join in waving.

Abel takes my hand and leads me up the steps to the dorms. Taylor is already sitting on the couch with Red, and Bella trails behind us. We settle onto the couch together, Abel at the arm and myself against his side with Taylor to my right. Bella sits down in the armchair across from the couch instead.

"That was so awesome, I loved seeing my family," Taylor bounces on the cushion happily, "And I'm so happy for you, Red, that your fiancé is not upset!"

"Me too, Taylor. I had been so worried, it's like a huge weight has lifted off my chest," Red lets out a deep, comfortable sigh.

"I liked meeting your family, Abel. Thank you," I lean into him.

"Of course, (Y/N)," he wraps an arm around my shoulders and I curl up even closer, laying my hand on his chest.

Red and Tay continue chatting about their families while Bella picks at the stitching on the armchair.

"Something wrong, Bella?" Abel asks.

"My mom is a bitch is all, nothing new," Bella shrugs.

"She wasn't necessarily being a bitch, she's just nervous for you is all," I shrug.

"Listening in on my conversation, huh?" Bella looks up at me, "I would've thought you'd pay more attention to your perfect boyfriend's family than my messed up family issues."

"I didn't... Well, I _did_ mean to listen in but I wasn't being malicious about it. I'm still sorry, though." I bite my lip.

"Ugh, whatever. It's fine. It's not like you didn't already know my life was fucked up, anyway," Bella sinks into the chair.

"You're taking steps to change that, Bella. Your mom will see that, eventually. Don't give up," Abel says, watching Bella intently.

Bella sighs. "I know you're right– but it still feels like shit that she doesn't trust my judgment. She didn't believe anything I said about Dave until Chef Ramsay came by and wooed her into submission. Maybe she'll start believing me when Becca and I move to Missouri and leave her to her precious retirement."

"Maybe," Abel agrees.

Bella sinks to where she's almost hanging off the chair and stares up at the ceiling, her heels digging into the carpet beneath the coffee table between the couch and armchairs.

"I wish Dave were here," she mumbles.

"Hey, (Y/N)?" Taylor catches my attention.

"Yeah, Tay?"

"If I win the competition, would you be my sous chef?" she asks, looking at me expectantly.

"I'd have to as-" I catch myself from finishing my sentence with 'ask Gordon what he thinks', "I mean, I'd have to think about it, but I definitely want to still hang out with you after the show, so probably yes. Would you be my sous chef if I won?"

"Hell yeah, girl! I've always wanted to live in London and meet a hottie with a posh British accent," she bats her eyelashes dreamily.

Taylor and I continue with 'what-if' scenarios about either of us winning the show until Sous Chef Christina claps from the top of the stairs.

"Come on, Chefs, the judges have judged your platters!"

We stand from our seats and head downstairs together, lining up outside of the kitchens. The families sit in their booths, looking plump and satisfied.

Gordon stands from where he had been seated with Abel's family and grabs a face-down sheet of paper from the table before addressing us.

"First off, I wanted to give another thank you to our lovely guest judges. It was a pleasure having you here today," he nods to the families before turning around to face us.

"The winner of our platter challenge has been decided. Ready to hear the results?"

"Yes, Chef!" we shout.

"In last place comes Mary's kielbasa pierogi snack platter. Sorry, Mary," he frowns in her direction and she looks down at the ground.

"Right after her is Bella and her breakfast nacho platter, followed by Taylor's BBQ and blooming onion platter."

"Which leaves Abel's Beef Canapé and (Y/N)'s seafood platter. Congratulations..." he pauses and the room is so silent that I swear that my heart thumping is audible, "to the both of you!"

We look to each other as a wide grin spreads across our faces at the same moment. From behind Abel, I see Bella pouting. To my right, Red and Taylor both look happy for us, and Taylor pats my back. The families at the tables clap for us.

"At around seven this evening, you'll be joining me for a fine dining experience with my dear friend Wolfgang Puck at his very own restaurant, CUT! Well done, both of you," Gordon rubs his hands together with excitement before turning to the others to describe their punishment. I'm too elated to pay any attention to what the rest of the chefs will have to put up with while I'm out with my boyfriends.

Is... is this a triple-date? My face goes hot until I remember that families are usually brought in before the food comes out. Still, thinking about having dinner with both Ramsay and Abel gives me nervous jitters.

"Until the evening, I'll need everyone to work on prep for dinner service tomorrow. Please say goodbye to your families, yeah?" Gordon steps to the side as the chefs head towards their respective family members.

I walk with Abel towards his family, still feeling jittery. His mother and sister wrap me in a hug, and his father gives me a one-armed side-hug.

"Good luck, both of you," Abel's mother squeezes Abel's arms after she releases him from her hug, her eyes flitting between us both.

"Thank you, Mom," Abel smiles down at her.

"Yes, thank you..." I can't bring myself to call her Mom after just meeting her, but she doesn't press the topic. Atlan wraps an arm around her waist and they both turn to exit the dining room.

"Cya, nerd," Jane waves to Abel, who gives her a lighthearted begrudging look as the doors swing shut behind them.

"Right, get to work chefs, we have a busy service tomorrow and I need prep to be completed by tonight!" Gordon directs us, and we all filter into the kitchen.

I can't wait to see how our dinner goes.


	112. (*)An Appetizer before Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get a little treat before dinner...

Tuesday, July 16th, 2013

"Abel, (Y/N), your limo is ready. Go on and get dressed," John-Philippe informs us from where he leans over the pass of the kitchen.

"Thank you, JP!" I respond as I place the pot of chicken stock down and wipe my hands on my apron before untying it.

JP nods then gets back to organizing the dining room. Abel and I head upstairs, taking the steps two at a time and smiling at each other before we enter our separate dorms.

I head towards my drawer and pull it out. Honestly, for going to CUT, I'd rather wear one of the dresses Gordon got for me than anything I brought for myself. My options are the grey ruffled dress from the photoshoot and the silky black dress with a velvet bow that he'd gotten for me to wear to Dining in the Dark. It seems a shame that I've only worn it once to a restaurant that no one could see it in, so I decide on the black dress.

Now that Gina isn't here, I don't have to pretend to struggle with getting it on. I do miss her, though. I managed to get along with most everyone on this show, a fact I'm grateful for. Anything to ease up on the strain of the competition, my parent's death anniversary, and juggling the logistics of two boyfriends is welcome.

I step into the closet and shimmy the dress on, feeling cool air hit my leg from the side slit in the dress as I tie the velvet belt into a bow at the back. I go rummaging through the closet until I find the bag containing the heels I'd gotten from the photoshoot that my makeup artist had packed away for me.

My breath catches in my throat as I pull the black heels out, spotting the red bottoms that had previously gone unnoticed.

"Louboutins..." my voice comes out in a whisper as I turn the heels over in my hands. Sure enough, on the inside I see the signature of Christian Louboutin, marking these as legitimate. I can't believe I didn't notice what I had been wearing, I had been so wrapped up in thinking about Gordon that day that I'd not realized I was wearing the most beautiful heels I could have imagined.

I slip the heels on, feeling like a princess. Gordon has gotten me so many amazing things I never could have dreamed I would own. I examine myself in the floor-length mirror on the closet door and barely recognize the radiant woman gazing back at me- her features immaculate and her outfit straight out of a designer magazine.

I push open the door to the main room and lock eyes with Abel. He's wearing a black tie and his suit from the photoshoot, the deep blue contrasting his light blue eyes that widen as he takes my outfit in.

"You..." he reaches a hand out to me, seemingly at a loss for words. I step towards him, placing my hand in his. For the first time, I see a light tinge of pink on his cheeks.

"You're absolutely perfect, (Y/N)," he pulls me into him, placing his forehead against mine. I close my eyes and breathe in his scent- clean, fresh, and masculine.

"So are you," I counter, bringing my free hand to his smooth cheek. I feel the tug of his smile against the palm of my hand.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispers, releasing my hand and wrapping his arm around my back. The eclipses of his pupils dilate as he waits for my response.

"Please?" I respond, leaning up towards him.

He bends down and presses his lips to mine, the smooth softness of his kiss ignites a slow burn in the pit of my stomach. He's always so polite, so gentle. It is very much the opposite of Gordon, whose kisses always make me want to tear his clothes off. In this case, I feel more like I want to curl up in Abel's arms and pepper his lips with fluttery smooches like we are love-struck and shy teenagers who have never kissed before.

He breaks the kiss, his eyes opening at the same moment I open mine, yet we keep our foreheads together. We gaze at each other for a moment of comfortable silence.

"Wow..." he mutters, grinning bashfully.

"No kidding," I respond, moving my hand from his cheek to his shoulder, feeling light and airy.

"We, uh," he moves his forehead from mine and I miss the contact immediately, "we should get to the limo, it's been ten minutes," he rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, pink still in his cheeks.

"Let's get going to our date, then," I wink before taking his hand in mine and leading him down the stairs.

We have to pass through the kitchens to get to the front door. Everyone turns to gawk at us as we step foot into the kitchens.

Taylor, who had been peeling a potato, slowly places the peeler down before turning to look at us head-on. "You guys are so hot, oh my God. By yourselves, you're both snacks, but together you're a full meal," she fans herself.

"Oh goodness, Tay," I dip my head at her compliment.

"I would hug you, but I've got starch and potato skin all over me, so you get a move on before I can't help myself," Tay grins.

"You really are beautiful, (Y/N)," Red adds, continuing to stir a pot of stock.

Bella glares at us from the corner of the kitchen for a moment before she speaks. "OK, OK, you two look good together. Don't have to rub it in," she sighs, "have a good time."

"Thank you," Abel says, the pink in his cheeks now gone as he stands tall and proud, looking down at me.

"Thanks, guys," I respond as Abel leads me through the kitchen.

We make it through the double doors, where Gordon stands holding the door open for us. This time, he's wearing a grey tuxedo with a black tie and immaculate dress pants with shiny black shoes.

"Ready?" Gordon asks as Abel and I slip into the plush limo seats.

"For sure," I respond, scooting in next to Abel. Gordon enters last, sliding until he's got his leg against mine.

I'm between my boyfriends- Abel on my left and Gordon on my right. The connotations of what being sandwiched between my boyfriends could mean make my cheeks flare. My left hand is twined with Abel's, while Gordon rests his hand on his leg, his pinky finger ever so lightly brushing against the exposed skin of my thigh from between the slit in the dress. It is subtle enough to be an accident, but I know that Gordon knows exactly what he's doing.

"Congrats, you two. Absolutely well done indeed. Abel, those assorted sauces you had on your platter truly stole the show. Everyone had a favorite," Gordon praises, then turns to me.

"And (Y/N), that seafood platter was incredibly well executed. Everything was still warm, it was laid out beautifully, and obviously, it was delicious. You were bold to have made so many different types of seafood," his eyes sparkle as he grins, his pinky finger furtively caressing the bare skin of my thigh.

"Thank you, Chef. I wanted to hearken to my signature dish so I expanded upon it. I'm so glad you and the judges appreciated it," I beam.

The ding of a text message catches me off guard. It sounds nearly foreign at this point after so long without any phones, TV, or internet access.

"Sorry," Gordon apologizes, pulling out his cellphone and turning the phone screen away from the camera in the center of the limo's roof. His expression goes from calm to a small frown by the time he finishes reading the message. My curiosity itches at me. What did the message say? It likely has nothing to do with anything that I'd need to know, but still. I don't like it when Gordon looks anything but happy. It's not like I can ask him, though. He types up a response and sends it.

"Look at this picture of my English bulldog, Rumpole," he gives a small grin before turning the screen towards me.

Much to my dismay, on the screen there is no picture of an adorable, wrinkly English bulldog. Instead, I'm met with a picture of the front cover of a tabloid, sent from Gordon's wife. The center of the magazine says something about a celebrity wedding, but I skim over that and my eyes glue to Gordon's face in the top right corner.

'Ex-Hell's Kitchen chef speaks on why he stormed out- Gordon's alleged affair!'

My eyes widen and I struggle to keep a neutral expression. Gordon then scrolls down to Tana's message.

'I read the article, Pietro didn't name any names to avoid defamation charges, but he talked about walking in on something in your office. It isn't center page news, so I doubt they believe him. Still, be careful.'

"Quite the ham, isn't he?" Gordon asks, taking his phone back.

My mind goes blank for a second. Pietro, a ham? Sure, he's plump but- OH, the dog!

"He's so cute, Chef," I respond, forcing my voice to remain level.

Gordon then leans across me holding the phone towards Abel, who makes a much better show of having seen a dog picture rather than a tabloid that threatens to make Gordon and my relationship known before we're ready.

"He looks like his father," Abel jokes, to which Gordon lightly pushes Abel's shoulder.

"Yeah, he's got my forehead," Gordon replies, snickering.

Wait, did Abel actually get to see a dog picture? Or is he just pretending? They're both so good at showmanship, I have no idea if Abel saw the same thing I did.

We pull up outside of a huge hotel, directly behind a pearly white Rolls Royce. There is a line of luxury cars in the driveway and I'm glad I decided to go with wearing my best outfit.

"Welcome to the Beverly Wilshire Hotel, chefs. In case you didn't know, they filmed 'Pretty Woman' in this very building," Gordon says as the driver inches us closer to the door.

When we reach the entrance, Gordon steps out and offers his hand to me. I take it and he surprises me by pulling me against his side as a slow-moving Lamborghini drives past in the opposite lane.

"Careful, darling," he whispers as Abel exits the limo, placing my hand in Abel's instead and leading the way to the entrance of the ritzy hotel. Abel keeps me close to his side as we reach the doors and step inside.

I'm transported into the 1980s as I'm faced with a glamorous circular lobby. There is a desk on the far left and the very center of the room is surrounded by four tall, tan columns. A gigantic triple-tiered chandelier hangs from the very center of the ceiling, between the columns. To the right, there is a sign with a wooden overlay that spells 'CUT' lit from behind with a white glow.

"This way, come on," Gordon waves us towards the restaurant. By the time we reach the white archway that leads into the restaurant, I smell the delectable scent of steak wafting from the entrance.

The lights are dimmed, giving a romantic air to the dining room. On my right is a long black countertop that pushes out from the cool white of the wall behind it. The flooring is a light tan wood and the wood paneling on the side of the countertop matches the floors. There are two chefs behind the black countertop, working in full view of the customers. It's much different than most kitchens, and I can't help being reminded of Hell's Kitchen's setup, making the chefs the stars. It seems Wolfgang had the same idea when he built his kitchens.

There are long tables set up alongside the walls with black chairs pushed up neatly underneath them. Directly in front of the countertop area is a half-circle booth with a wooden table in the center. Gordon leads us towards it and motions for us to sit. Abel sits first and moves down until he's near the middle of the half-circle booth. Next, I sit and scoot until I'm beside Abel, who takes my hand, and Ramsay files in last. Once again, I find myself squeezed between the two handsomely-dressed men. The booth is open enough to be among people but high enough that only my head and upper body is visible to the other customers and chefs.

Which is great, because right away I feel Gordon's hand grip my thigh under the table. I reflexively clench my hand around Abel's, who glances at me, down at my lap, then back up quickly as our waiter I hadn't noticed approach clears his throat.

"Good evening, Chef Ramsay and winners, I'm Charles and I'll be your waiter for tonight. We'll have some appetizers out for you in a few minutes but in the meantime; can I interest you in a glass of wine, compliments of Wolfgang?" Charles asks, holding out a bottle of wine in white-gloved hands.

"Yes, please," Gordon responds, nodding to him. The waiter pours out three wine glasses and then sets three glasses of ice water next to the wine.

"Chef Ramsay, I wanted to say how much I admire you, I really, really do," Charles says nervously, his brown eyes locked onto Gordon. "You're my inspiration. Er, anyway," he hastily corks the wine, "Enjoy," Charles bows slightly before moving on to the next table, not giving Gordon time to respond.

Gordon shrugs to us as Charles approaches his next table, yet the waiter's eyes keep flitting back to Gordon.

Meanwhile, Gordon's fingers have slipped through the slit in my dress, traveling higher as he uses his free hand to hold his wine glass up in the air.

"To the platter challenge winners, spectacular work, you two," he nods to Abel and me while holding the glass, dipping his head.

Abel takes his glass and I use my free hand to grab mine. We clink the glasses together before taking a sip. The cool red wine is fruity on my tongue as I drink, placing my glass back down after a moment.

Gordon's fingers have reached the valley between my thighs and I feel myself getting warm, both on my face and achingly close to Gordon's touch.

"Your family will be here soon, Abel. But I hope you don't mind if I stay?" Gordon asks, directing the question at Abel.

"Of course not, Chef," his voice is smooth and low as he looks at me instead of Gordon, watching my smile emerge as he gives Gordon permission.

"Thank you," Gordon says to Abel with a grin. He picks up his wine and takes another sip at the same moment I feel his fingers slip between my thighs. I spread my legs slightly and I feel his pinky resting on my panties that have already become slightly wet.

He moves his pinky slowly, alluringly, up and down at my slit with only the cotton barrier between him and me. I feel my lips part, but catch myself before I moan aloud. Instead, I clench Abel's hand again to try to relieve some of the tension Gordon is causing.

Abel must know what is going on, but he acts blissfully unaware. He reads the menu as I take my wine glass and gulp down another drink. My face feels warm, but I can blame that on the alcohol. I'm lucky I have the wine glass to my lips because I gasp into the wine as Gordon hooks my panties around his pinky and pulls them to the side, now rubbing the side of his finger directly against my clit in achingly soft motions.

"So, Abel, tell me about how you made your platter?" Gordon asks, resting his elbow on the table and giving Abel what appears to be his full attention as he teases me under the table.

"Well, Chef, first I..." Abel's words drown out as I fade into the background of their conversation, instead letting myself focus on keeping my expression neutral. I lean against Abel slightly, spreading my legs as much as I can while still sitting up. My eyes dart around the room in paranoia– I am aware there is a camera crew from Hell's Kitchen, but they have moved into the back room kitchen to get footage of our appetizers being made. Still, I have no idea when they will return. The idea of being caught should terrify me, and it does, but the way Gordon is touching me dims my terror– instead, the adrenaline heightens my pleasure.

Gordon re-positions his hand to where his palm is directly against my clit and his fingers run along the silky wetness of my entrance slowly, tantalizingly. I feel a different sort of anxious knowing that Abel knows what Gordon is doing to me, yet he still holds my hand and talks to Gordon like nothing is happening a mere foot away from him.

I glance at Abel to see his expression, but it is an unreadable mask of formality as he converses with Ramsay. A thought of how he should play poker comes to mind before quickly being erased as Gordon slowly and achingly slips his middle finger into me, pumping in and out in a slow rhythm. I shakily grab my water and take a drink, then bring a napkin to my mouth in time to capture a whimper and keep it from escaping.

His palm rolls against my clit as he discusses sauce prep with Abel and slips his index finger inside me as well, slowly tempting me to the point where I have to keep myself from grinding my hips into his hand.

"I love your dress, by the way, (Y/N)," Gordon says, snapping me into the present and I turn to meet his eyes– he looks pleased with himself. There is a hint of mischief behind his deep blue gaze and he is smiling widely while his fingers still work inside of me.

"Oh," my voice comes out somewhat breathy, "thank you, Chef."

Much to my chagrin, Charles approaches our table with a breadbasket. However, Gordon doesn't slow up on his playing with me. The waiter locks eyes with me and I swear he must know what is going on directly across from him, but he shifts his eyes to Gordon and the same reverence he expressed before is evident. This boy has no clue that Ramsay literally has me wrapped around his fingers at this very moment, he's too enchanted by Gordon's presence to notice anything else. Thank God.

"I've brought you our special cheese-stuffed bread, Pão de Queijo," Charles reaches forward with the breadbasket a little too eagerly, sending a stack of napkins fluttering underneath the table. "Sorry, sorry! I'll get those!"

He starts to bend down to collect the napkins and the idea of him seeing what Gordon is doing to me beneath the table snaps me into action.

"I'll get it!" I quickly duck my head under the table and bend down towards the floor. At the same moment I do, Gordon picks up the pace. His hand is squeezed between my thighs as I press them together, and my legs tremble as the rapid change in position and his continued stimulation draws me to a surprise orgasm. I clamp down on my mouth with my hand to keep from betraying what he's done to me, my eyes on the black dress pants of the unaware waiter directly across from us. I vaguely note that I'm also squeezing down on Abel's hand, and I feel him squeeze me back.

After another few seconds, I grab the napkins from the floor and sit back up. Gordon pulls his hand out from between the slit in my dress after moving my panties back in place and acts as if nothing happened. I, on the other hand, feel the red in my face is hotter than ever, and my panties are soaked.

"Are you alright, ma'am?" the waiter asks, raising an eyebrow at my fully-flushed face.

I open my mouth to attempt to speak when Gordon flashes the waiter a smile. Charles is unable to resist Gordon's charms, and his eyes move to meet his.

"It seems the wine went straight to her head is all, thank you for the bread," Gordon nods to Charles dismissively. Charles bows again, a small frown on his face, and turns away from the table.

I take another drink of my nearly-empty wine glass before bringing a fresh napkin to my lips and patting them dry. Abel hasn't released my hand, but I feel heat radiating off him as well. Meanwhile, Gordon uses a napkin to dry his fingers under the table.

I can't believe Gordon brought me to orgasm, in public, while I was holding hands with Abel.

The tabloid squeezes itself back into my mind as my orgasmic high starts to level out.

How is Gordon so cool about all of this? He must truly believe that there is nothing to the tabloid and that everyone will assume they are just rumors, but it is difficult knowing that I can't just ask him what he thinks.

"I'm going to go wash my hands before dinner," Gordon announces as he slides out of the booth.

"Me too," Abel agrees, and I nod, joining them in standing.

"Right this way," Gordon gestures towards the restrooms and we follow, Abel and my hands still entwined.


	113. CUT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We enjoy our lunch at CUT!

Tuesday, July 16th, 2013

When I emerge from the bathroom, both Abel and Gordon are waiting for me, chatting with each other. I can't lie that the worked-up part of my brain had hoped for something more to happen, but this isn't Dining in the Dark. There are people here, and what Gordon had done was already risky enough. I take note of the Hell's Kitchen filming crew nearby and once again feel relief that they were too busy filming the food prep to bother us.

I wonder what Abel thinks of Gordon and me after what happened... he doesn't seem to be anything but calm and he held my hand the entire time so, in the very least, he isn't put off by it. I still can't believe Gordon was so intrepid about the fact Abel was _right there_ next to me.

"Hey," Abel grins, holding a hand out. I take it, returning his smile as he leads us towards the booth.

This time, as we approach the booth, Abel's family steps into the room, wearing the same outfits they had worn during the judging of the platter contest. Gordon's grey suit and black tie contrast nicely with Abel and Atlan's deep blue suits. I don't think I've ever been around so many well-dressed men before in my life.

"Welcome!" Gordon greets them, shaking Abel's father's hand and making me ever so grateful he washed them first. He then kisses Evelyn and Jane's cheeks before directing the family towards our booth. Atlan is seated first, followed by his wife, his daughter, Abel, myself, then Gordon at the very end. 

In the center of the table, Charles drops off a plate of three different bread rolls– seeded sourdough, baked onion ciabatta, and a pretzel roll. There is also a separate plate with a rounded cut of homemade, salted butter. I release Abel's hand then cut a bit of each of the rolls off and get to work on spreading butter over the fresh rolls.

"So," Gordon starts, "Are you enjoying Los Angeles? Have you been scouted for a movie yet, darling?" he directs the question to Jane, who bashfully grins.

"No, not yet Chef. I am really liking it here, though," she flips her dark hair over her shoulder, "I might have to move here after I graduate."

Atlan grabs a cheese bread, placing it on a small white plate in front of him before he scoffs. "Both my kids are going to be on TV and one is headed straight into show business, good God."

"Is there a problem with show business?" Gordon asks, genuine curiosity in his inquiry.

"Not inherently, but nowadays the people at the top have little regard for the people that work below them," he pulls apart the cheesy bread and a string of gooey cheese drips onto the plate. "Of course, your profession might be the exception to the rule, so Abel will probably be alright, but I'm worried about my little girl."

I immediately think about the fact that Gordon and I will be sharing our relationship with the world. Abel is a huge part of the show, and there is no way that he will come out unscathed from the backlash. The now-familiar feeling of guilt creeps back into my mind.

"Show business is all about connections. If she makes the right ones, then she can avoid unsavory practices. I happen to know quite a few people in the business who can help her get onto the right path. If she's good, that is," Gordon winks at Jane, who averts her eyes but continues to smile.

"Oh, she's good," Atlan nods. "I'd very much appreciate that."

"Give me a call when she graduates, yeah?" 

"For sure, thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, she's still got a lot more work to do. But if her work ethic is anything like her brother's, I know she'll make it," Gordon praises.

Charles approaches the table followed by a second waitress with long brown hair. Both hold three plates each.

"Our first appetizer, steak tartar with a quail egg," Charles says as he places the plates down, being sure to serve Gordon first, "enjoy!" 

The plate is speckled with differently colored sauces, and the quail egg is resting inside its shell. Gordon picks up the shell and pours the egg onto his steak tartar and I copy him, both of us using our forks to take a bite at the same time.

The quail egg mixed with the tartar gives the meat a creamy texture, which is delicious when paired with the assorted sauces. In just a few minutes, every plate is clean and Charles returns to collect the plates while the waitress from earlier brings two long, black, oval plates out and sets them down.

"Roasted bone marrow with parsley salad, salsify, agrodolce sauce, and Brioche bread to spread it on," she presents the dish, then leaves us to it.

Though I know bone marrow is edible, I've never had it myself. The bone is split in two places, making three portions on each plate. I grab a bone and use my spoon to spread the marrow onto a fresh piece of Brioche before taking a hesitant bite. I'm caught by surprise at the luscious texture of the marrow and how sweet it tastes. Before I know it, I've cleaned my plate of everything but the bone itself.

"Abel truly is doing well in this competition, Evelyn," Gordon says as the waiter returns to clear the plates and refill drinks.

"I knew he would," she beams at Abel from across the table, "he's always been into food. He might've cooked dinner more times than I did as he grew up!"

"I just wanted to keep the strain off you and dad is all," Abel shrugs but gives his mom a half-smile.

Charles stops by, this time with a cart full of plates.

"We have your main courses and sides," he lays out a huge porterhouse steak in the center of the table.

"Our steaks are grilled over charcoal and hard wood then finished under a 1200 degree broiler for a crunchy, smokey crust."

He then lays out a bowl of greens, "Brussels sprouts with sesame Yuzu aioli and glazed shallots," he lays down a second plate, "Kennebec potato french fries with black truffle," he proceeds to take a black truffle from the cart and use a cheese grater over the fries to generously sprinkle them with the earthy flavor, "and finally, Japanese pure Wagyu beef, flown in from Japan just this morning. We'll have that out to you after you've had time to eat everything else. Trust me, nothing else can live up to it."

Charles leaves with a small bow as the aroma of the beautiful food laid out in front of us reaches my nose. The porterhouse steak's scent makes my mouth begin to water. Gordon cuts off a hearty section and offers the piece to me. I nod and hold up my plate and he slides the slice onto it. I use a serving spoon to take some of the Brussels sprouts. I normally avoid Brussels sprouts due to the fact that if they are cooked wrong, they're absolutely horrid. But I trust Wolfgang to serve only the best and thus give the sprouts a try.

The flavor knocks me off guard- creamy, citrusy, and nutty in all the perfect amounts. I cut a bite of the steak and follow up with it, feeling the crisp crust of the steak crackle, making way for the tender meat inside. Charles had provided three different types of mustard and a small bowl of Fleur de Sel (the most delicious of all finishing salts), but honestly, this steak needs no flavoring. 

Everything tastes so incredible that it doesn't surprise me when we clean all the plates in under thirty minutes. Everyone was so engrossed in the food that we hardly spoke at all except to exclaim on the deliciousness of what we were eating.

I notice the familiar face of Wolfgang Puck approaching the table, grinning ear-to-ear.

"It looks like everyone enjoyed the food!" he rubs his hands together as he reaches the table. "Good to see you again, Gordon, (Y/N), and Abel," he nods to us and we return the nod, "Are you ready for your Wagyu? I made it special for you," he waggles his eyebrows playfully before gesturing for a waitress to bring a large serving plate forward. In one swift motion, he removes the lid, revealing six perfectly-portioned Wagyu strip steaks.

"Tah-dah!" he shouts gleefully before laying down the serving platter. "I wanted you to have them last, so you truly savor the meat. It is," he bunches his fingers together then kisses them, "magnifiqué!"

Charles comes by and sets out the steak for each of us on clean plates before flashing a shy grin at Ramsay and bowing, turning on his heel away from the table.

"I've never had Wagyu before. Not even when I was in Japan," Abel whispers, leaning in towards me. "Have you?"

"No," I shake my head, "I'm glad I get to try it for the first time with you."

Abel gives a genuine, soft smile. "Me too."

We cut into our Wagyu and honestly, it comes apart so easily I think I could have used the side of my fork instead of a knife to cut it. 

"Ready?" Abel asks, holding his Wagyu in front of his lips.

"Yeah," I nod before placing the expensive meat on my tongue and closing my mouth around it. 

The meat begins to literally melt as soon as I chew. I bet if I let it rest on my tongue, it would eventually fall apart on its own. The flavor is unlike any other meat I'd ever eaten. A quick glance around the table and I notice that everyone else is feeling the same bliss as me, even Gordon, who is closing his eyes in ecstasy I usually only see him reach when he's buried himself deep inside me...

I might have choked on the Wagyu if it weren't so delicate. I had gotten lost in my daydreams of Gordon and my bite of Wagyu slipped down my throat before I could stop it. Dammit, I was savoring that! Well, that and my memories of Gordon's expressions when he's making me his. 

Fuck, I have to stop thinking like this. Coupled with the show of exhibitionism earlier, I can't stop myself from the dirty thoughts that flood my mind. I know I had Gordon earlier this morning, but I feel ravenous. If it weren't for the camera crew directly across from us, I would slip a hand under the table and play with what's mine...

"How was it?" Abel's voice seeps into my fantasies.

"Oh, it was delicious! Probably the most delectable meat I'd ever eaten," I cut a second piece, "How did you like it?"

"It was great," he cuts a second bite before leaning towards me, "but I much prefer the fillet I ate with you since we made it and it was our first time eating a meal together."

My cheeks run pink as I take in his words. He'd been so close to me while Gordon did what he did, and yet, he's still flirting with me and being a sweetheart with no trace of jealousy in his words or his kind expression.

Abel becomes more and more of an enigma the more I get to know him. He's so different than any other man I'd ever met, but that fact draws me even closer to him. I feel like the luckiest woman in the world to have two amazing men who care so much about me.

The rest of dinner passes with polite conversation and laughter. Before we know it, we are saying our goodbyes. Abel's mother once again reminds me to take care of him for her, and the guilt of what she might think of my relationships resurfaces. Will she understand? It seems foolish to consider that she, or any of his family, would. Like Gordon said, most people don't even know what polyamory is, much less accept it.

As I think back on Abel's family while on the drive back to Hell's Kitchen, I hope they understand Abel's decision when Gordon and I come out about our relationship.

Because I realize I don't want to let Abel go.


	114. It's a Bird, it's a Plane, it's a... Radish?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordon gives us a test!

Wednesday, July 17th, 2013

"Up, up, up and at 'em!" Christina's voice startles me awake from bed.

"Chef Ramsay needs you all downstairs in fifteen minutes, chop chop!" she announces as Tay cracks open the dorm bedroom's door. 

"Yes, Chef," Tay responds groggily, yawning and rubbing her eyes. "You guys heard that?" she asks, turning towards the room.

Assorted groans of acknowledgement flit through the air. 

It doesn't take me very long to get dressed, donning my chef outfit has become second nature at this point. Abel waits for me at the top of the stairs.

"Are you ready? I have a feeling I know what this challenge is," Abel says as we walk down the stairs together.

"As ready as I can be," I respond, watching his free hand that isn't linked with mine trail delicately down the railing. "What do you think it is?" 

"Taste it now make it," he whispers, "I'm very nearly certain. It always comes around about this time."

When we reach the bottom of the stairs and pass through the kitchen, Gordon is waiting with a big grin on his face.

"Morning, chefs!" he cheerfully greets us.

"Morning, Chef!"

"Is my black jacket team ready for their first dinner service as a team coming up tonight?"

"Yes, Chef!"

"Perfect, before then, however, I have a challenge for you. Are we ready to hear it?"

"Yes, Chef!"

Gordon tilts his head to the side. "Raise your hand if you've ever played Pictionary."

Everyone but Red raises their hand. What does this have to do with cooking, I wonder? I glance over at Abel, who shrugs slightly.

"For those of you who haven't played, I'll give a quick run-down. I'm going to give you a word, and I want you to go up and draw it. The first person to guess what it is you're drawing wins a point. Each of you will have one drawing to make, so the person who guesses the most drawings correctly will win. Got it?"

"Yes, Chef!"

Chef Scott comes out from the curtain to the right of the dining room, holding a large white notepad like the one we'd used to write our menus on for the red vs. blue challenge. He places it to the right of Ramsay and backs away.

"Everything we draw will be food related, just a heads up. Bella, come here my dear," he motions for her to approach. Bella steps out of line and up to Ramsay, who leans down and whispers something into her ear.

Bella uncaps the black marker Gordon hands to her.

"Ready, Bella?" Gordon asks. 

"Yeah," she responds, holding the marker over the blank paper.

"Go!"

Bella presses the marker to the paper, making a circle.

"Shout out what you think it is, don't wait turns just say what's on your mind!" Gordon prompts us.

"A potato!" Taylor shouts. "No, wait, a pancake! Or... a waffle?"

Bella draws what appears to be a leafy sprout over the top of the circle.

"A circular carrot?" Red says, confused. 

I look over at Abel again, but he's staying silent, concentrating on Bella's drawing as she draws a squiggly line coming out of the bottom.

"Is it a beet?" he says after a few more completely-off guesses from Red.

When he says beet, something clicks into place in my mind.

"Radish!" I shout, to which Gordon claps his hands. 

"Correct, love! You're up next," he ushers me towards the notepad after tearing off Bella's page with the awkwardly drawn radish and hands me the black marker.

"Corn," he whispers into my ear, his breath tickling my earlobe. 

This should be easy enough. I'm no artist, but I know what corn looks like.

I start by drawing an oblong oval. I could draw the corn inside its husk, but it'd be more recognizable if I draw the little kernels. 

"Carrot? Hot dog? Celery?" Tay starts shouting out whatever comes to mind.

"Mushroom? Chicken breast?" Red says hesitantly.

"Is it a penis?" Bella asks, her tone completely serious. I nearly drop the marker as my shoulders shake with laughter that quickly takes over, causing me to draw a squiggly line instead of a curved one across from one end of the corn to the other.

Gordon muffles his laughter with his hand. "A penis? You really think I'd ask her to draw that?" he snickers.

Bella shrugs. "Hey, I know it's possible to cook with like, goat or bull penis so..." she trails off and shrugs, "whatever."

Once I take a few deep breaths, I get back to drawing my terrible-looking corn. I make a few lines from one end to the other.

"Is it steak with grill marks?" Taylor asks. "No? A... is it... a lobster tail?"

I shake my head, continuing to draw out the kernels.

"Corn?" Abel finally says, sparing me from my terrible artistic failure.

"Correct, Abel, come on up young man," Gordon hands Abel the marker and whispers something into his ear as I walk back into line.

Abel takes the marker in his left hand and begins drawing a shape that resembles a heart. I can't believe I hadn't noticed he is left-handed before.

"Squash?" Taylor scrunches her eyebrows, "Bread?" 

"Is it a biscuit?" Red asks.

"A pear? Maybe an avocado?" I offer.

Abel draws a few flat leaves at the top.

"OK, this has to be a carrot," Bella announces, but Gordon shakes his head.

"It's a strawberry!" Tay says as soon as Abel starts to draw the seeds.

"Correct! Taylor, come on up," Gordon signals for her to approach. She takes the marker and leans up to hear him whisper her food item into her ear.

Tay uncaps the marker then, with her tongue between her teeth in concentration, draws an oval lengthwise. 

"Egg! Banana!" Bella shouts.

Tay draws a second circle at the front of the oval.

"Uhm, grapes?" Red shrugs.

"French bread?" I ask.

Abel stays silent, watching as Tay draws four rectangles, two in the front and two at the back of the oval. She draws a curl at the end without the circle and draws a small dot on the circle opposite the curl.

"What the hell..." Bella mutters under her breath.

"A pig?" Abel says as she finishes drawing ears on what now definitely looks to be a pig.

But Gordon doesn't announce that he's correct and Tay keeps drawing. 

She draws a rectangle above the pig and adds a smaller cylinder coming off one end of the rectangle. She then draws an arrow pointing down towards the pig from the side of the rectangle.

"Oh, it's pork chops, isn't it?" Abel says, amusement in his voice.

"Ding ding ding!" Gordon mimics the sound of a fight bell, "Correct! Also, well drawn Taylor," he nods to Tay, who hands him back the marker with a smile.

"Last but not least, Mary would you approach the front?" Gordon says, holding out the marker.

Red steps forward, taking hold of the marker and listening intently as Gordon whispers something to her.

"Go on," he motions to the board, where she uncaps the marker and begins drawing a triangle. 

"Cheese!" Bella guesses, earning a shocked expression from Gordon.

"Correct, but how?" he wonders aloud.

"There aren't too many triangular foods, Chef. And I watched a lot of Tom and Jerry as a kid," she shrugs, smiling.

"Well then, excellently done Chefs. Abel scored the most points, which means he wins. Excited to know what you've won?" he grins.

"Nothing, Chef?" Abel says, dipping his head slightly and grinning in return.

"You're bloody right nothing!" Gordon's smile widens. "How did you know?"

"Oh, just an intuition," Abel shrugs, chuckling slightly. 

"Well, now that I know you all can recognize food by looking at it, I need to know one more thing... can you recognize food by using all of your senses? That's right, it's time for taste it now make it!" Gordon rubs his hands together excitedly.

Abel glances at me at the same time I look at him, and we both don a half smile as Abel mouths, _knew it_.


	115. Taste it now Make it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our taste it now make it challenge begins!

Wednesday, July 17th, 2013

"I'm sure you all know how this works, but I'll explain just in case anyone has forgotten," Gordon's eyes peruse over his black jacket chefs, "In the taste it now make it challenge, you will be given a plate of something I've cooked and you will need to use all of your senses to re-create the dish exactly how I've prepared it."

Sous Chef Christina emerges from the curtain at the side of the restaurant pushing a cart with a domed plate on it. Bella cranes her neck to watch it roll in as Gordon takes a step towards where the cart comes to rest.

"Right, you'll have an hour to cook, so don't waste any time. Your time starts..." Gordon hovers his hand over the lid, opening it with a flourish, "Now!"

We rush forward towards the uncovered plate. Three ravioli sit beautifully on red mounds, the edges of the pasta pointed towards the center. Two different sauces are drizzled over the plate, one a deep burgundy color and the other looks to be a simple lemon vinaigrette. There are small herbs delicately placed around the plate. One looks to be basil, and the other has a red stem like sorrel, but I'd need to taste it to be sure.

"Since there are five of us and only three ravioli, we'll split each ravioli into two and leave the last half for those who need a final taste," Abel says, looking to us as we nod in agreement. He grabs a knife and a fork, cutting into each ravioli and separating them out into each corner of the plate.

Abel uses the tine of the fork to pull chunks of white meat in a pinkish purée out, examining it closely. Bella cuts into her ravioli and eats half the piece in one bite, while Taylor uses the tip of her pinkie to try the sauces. Red nibbles on a piece of the meat and stares off into the distance contemplatively.

I grab a fork and dip the end into the inside of my half of the pasta and taking a small chunk of meat, bringing it to my mouth carefully. When the meat touches my tongue, aside from the fact it is delicious, I immediately recognize the flavor of lobster from my platter yesterday. The purée is a bit harder to place, but I know it's pink, fishy, rich, and buttery. There are two fish that spring to mind– trout and salmon. But which one?

I keep the question in the back of my mind as I fork some of the red chunks from under the ravioli piece into my mouth. It has to be a simple tomato chutney, easily. Now for the sauces. I dip my finger into the yellowish sauce and taste it, affirming my guess of it being a lemon vinaigrette. I wipe off my finger then dip it into the reddish sauce, dabbing it on my tongue. Lobster sauce, probably reduced from a stock... which means that the ravioli was likely also cooked in lobster stock. Stifling a grin, I pick up the red-stemmed micro-herb and taste it. Sorrel, definitely. The basil is so easy to distinguish I don't feel the need to try it, but I do anyway just to be completely certain. Yep, basil. 

Feeling proud of myself, I fill a steaming pot with three inches of salted water, setting it to high heat for it to boil. I fill a second, medium-sized pot with water and set it to boil as well. I notice Red to my right lugging a large pot for her seafood that nearly towers over her head when she sets it on the stove. 

I then move to gather my ingredients. Gordon has already laid out pasta sheets for us, saving us some time. I take a few sheets and lay them on my prep station, covering them with plastic wrap to keep them from drying out. Next, my lobster. Gordon has laid out live, one-and-a-half pound lobsters. I feel like a lobster serial killer when I stab the poor thing, killing it instantly and placing it on a steamer rack in the now-boiling pot for about eight minutes. By steaming the lobster, I preserve more of the flavor. I know that isn't exactly a requirement of this challenge, but since I have a chance to show off, I'm going to.

I remove the cores from four small plum tomatoes and score the bottom and tops of each, then drop them into the boiling water of the medium-sized pot. After thirty seconds, the skin starts to peel away. I move the tomatoes to a bowl of ice and let them sit for another thirty seconds. I set a skillet to medium heat, peeling off the skin of the tomatoes and dicing them while I wait for it to heat up. Once the skillet heats, I add in some olive oil and then the diced tomatoes. All I need to do is remember to stir occasionally for the next twenty minutes, and the chutney will come out perfectly.

Reducing the lobster stock is going to take about thirty minutes, and will require my attention to be sure it doesn't overcook. I take three cups of lobster stock and pour it into a pan set to high heat before stirring my tomatoes.

Now, I have to decide on which fish Gordon used for the filling. My mind flits between salmon, trout, salmon, trout until I feel uncertain if it is either of those two. I go back and try another bite of the purée, closing my eyes and attempting to feel out the difference. 

I'll go with salmon, and hope to goodness that I'm right. I set out a pan and get to cooking a fourth of a pound of salmon with the skin removed since I wouldn't want skin pieces in the purée. Midway through cooking the salmon, I pull my lobster from the steamer and set it aside to cool and stir my tomato chutney in the process. 

Now that the salmon is cooked, I drop it into a blender and crack an egg into a separate bowl, removing the yolk. I slowly pulse the salmon, dripping in the egg white carefully until a paste is formed. I transfer the mousse to a bowl and season it with salt and pepper. 

My lobster is cooled off, so I remove the meat just as I did yesterday, being sure to not miss the meat in the claws or legs. I dice the meat then use a spatula to gently fold the meat into the salmon purée. I chop some basil then fold it in as well, along with some lemon juice, lemon zest, salt, and pepper. I then pop the bowl into the fridge to cool for ten minutes and stir my tomatoes once again, checking on the reducing lobster stock.

While that is cooling, I rub flour on my hands and use a round cutter to cut six circles into the pasta, laying them out right above and below each other to make shaping them easier. I place plastic wrap over the top of the round cut-outs and mix together some lemon juice, olive oil, and salt for my vinaigrette. 

A few minutes later, my filling is nice and chilled. Using a spoon, I shape the filling into nice round blobs before delicately placing them on the center of the lower pasta disc. I repeat the same action for each of the three lower discs, then use the separated yolk from my purée earlier to brush around the outside of the disc. Then, I place the upper disc over the top of the bottom one and use my fingers to press the top, and then the bottom together. I lift the disc into the air and knit the pasta ends until they mesh, being careful not to tear the pasta or move too quickly.

I pull the tomato chutney from the heat and pour some lobster stock in a pot to boil at the same moment that I hear a pot clash to the ground and shrill scream from beside me. Red is now holding her left wrist in her hand, tears budding in her eyes.

Without thinking, I rush over to help her, being careful to avoid slipping on the hot water that covers the ground.

"Red! Are you OK?" I worriedly look down at where she's gripping her wrist.

"Y-yeah... just burned myself... When the pot hit the ground it splashed up at me," she mutters, her eyes on the pot of water at her feet that has somehow miraculously landed right-side-up.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" I ask as I feel Gordon's presence approaching behind me.

"Mary, what happened?" he asks, concerned. 

"I tried to move the pot but the handles were too high up for me to get a good grip on it. It splashed some scalding water on my wrist when it fell," she says. Gordon takes her hand and examines her red and blotchy skin. 

"This looks severe," he mutters, turning and examining the skin, "I'm going to call the doctor."

"No!" Red shouts, jerking her hand away from his. "I want to keep going, Chef," she winces. 

"You can keep going if the doctor gives you the go-ahead, but you need to get that looked at," Gordon presses.

After a few seconds of tense silence, Red nods. "OK, Chef..."

Gordon effortlessly lifts the pot from the ground and sets it on the countertop before gently placing a hand on Red's back and leading her to the rear of the kitchen. Sous Chef Christina emerges from the back room with a mop and towels to soak up the mess on the floor. Gordon follows shortly after, returning to the head of the pass.

I head back to my station where my raviolis sit as pretty as they had been before. I let out a deep sigh of relief as I check for a gentle boil on the stock I'll be cooking the raviolis in, then drop my pasta in carefully. I spin the pot slightly to keep them from sticking to each other.

The raviolis have to cook for ninety seconds. I take the bowl I used to mix the vinaigrette in and carefully place my raviolis inside, seasoning them with lemon zest and salt and I begin rolling them around in the bowl.

It is at that moment that I smell something burning. I glance over at the stove where I see my lobster stock reduction bubbling thickly. 

Oh no. Oh God no.

The obviously-burnt smell taunts me as I leave my raviolis and rush to the lobster reduction. I messed up. Shit! Shit shit shit! Fucking hell _why_?

I dive for the lobster stock, unscrewing the lid with shaking hands. I pour it in so quickly that it splashed over the side, sizzling on the hot flat-top stove. I feel a set of eyes on me and when I look up, Gordon is watching from behind the pass with obvious concern. I very nearly whimper as his voice calls out.

"Five minutes left!"

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I glare at my failed lobster reduction. There isn't enough time to fix this. Silently cursing myself, I spoon the tomato chutney onto the plate in three nice piles and gently settle my raviolis onto them. Maybe everyone else will have messed up. Maybe my ingredients will be the only ones that are correct. At least my jacket isn't on the line. I can make up for this at service tonight. All sorts of half-formed thoughts clutter my mind as I use a sauce bottle to make swirls of vinaigrette on the raviolis and then made wide arcing ovals across the entire plate. My chunky, watery lobster stock gets stuck in the bottle as I try to squeeze it out. I guess I'll leave it off, then. Better than making my raviolis taste like burnt coals. Lastly, I place micro-herbs of basil and sorrel around the plate and gently on top of the raviolis. 

I slide my plate onto the pass as Gordon's voice comes in clear over the kitchen. "Three, two, one and... time!" 

Abel slides his plate up next to mine and softly smiles at me. I return the smile but feel my anxiety clawing at me. Red must have returned at some point, because she sets her plate next to Abel's. I take a deep breath, reminding myself again that I still have a chance, and even if I don't, I can still cheer for Abel when he wins. Of course, he'll win. I can't imagine him not having made Gordon's dish perfectly. It looks perfect.

Gordon steps into the kitchen and approaches the center of the pass, taking up his place at the head of the kitchen. His eyes pass over each plate, betraying no emotion. 

I hope what I've made still makes him proud.


	116. Taste it now Make it Judging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our taste it now make it challenge is judged!

Wednesday, July 17th, 2013

Gordon enters the kitchen and heads up the pass, a perfectly non-expressive look on his face as he glances over the plates.

"Bella, please tell me what you used to make your dish," he asks as she moves her plate in front of him. 

"I used crab meat in a trout purée laid on top of tomato chutney with lemon vinaigrette and lobster reduction sauce over the top. There are also basil and marjoram herbs on top," she says as Gordon tastes her ravioli.

"Mmh, good. Taylor, you're next," he gestures for Taylor to bring her plate forward while Bella nervously scoots to the side.

"Hey Chef, I used lobster meat in a salmon purée in my raviolis. They're resting on tomato chutney with lemon and lobster sauces, topped with basil and sorrel," she grins as Gordon takes a bite of her food.

Huh, that sounds exactly like mine! Taylor and I must have been on the same brainwave as we prepared our food. I smile slightly at the thought.

"Well cooked," Gordon compliments. His face is stoic, betraying no emotion. "Abel, you're next."

"What I've prepared for you today is lobster meat and trout purée stuffed ravioli over tomato chutney with lobster reduction and lemon vinaigrette sauces. The raviolis have basil and sorrel micro-herbs on top," he presents his dish smoothly. I look over at the plate, admiring how everything looks to be masterfully placed just so. Even his herbs are standing up tall on top of the ravioli. And I thought I was going to be the one showing off.

"Delicious, go on back in line. Mary, you're next," Gordon hands Abel his plate as Red sets her plate in front of him.

"I, uh. I used crab meat and salmon purée. Like everyone else, I made tomato chutney and I used lemon vinaigrette and crab reduction sauces over the top, along with micro sorrel and basil," she finishes, watching intently as Gordon cuts into her ravioli and brings it to his mouth.

"A little under-cooked. Raviolis require ninety seconds in the pot, yeah?" Gordon informs her.

"Oh, yes, Chef," she mumbles, taking her plate back from him. She winces as the plate touches her fingers. Apparently, the burning water hit more than just her wrist.

"(Y/N), please?" Gordon asks, his deep blue eyes locking onto mine. I swallow the lump in my throat before bringing up my ravioli.

"Thank you, describe what you made?" he cuts into the ravioli, spearing the bite on his fork.

"For the inside of the ravioli, I used lobster meat with a salmon purée. On top, I put lemon vinaigrette, basil, and sorrel. They're on tomato chutney. I had made lobster reduction, but it overcooked and I didn't want to ruin the flavor of the dish by putting it on," I sigh.

"A shame, it looks and tastes lovely," Gordon hands me my ravioli, his fingers under the plate lightly brushing against mine as I take it from him.

"Now, let's see who got the dish right, yeah?" he rubs his hands together.

"The meat is the number one ingredient in the dish, and you can't possibly win without having gotten it correct. The filling for the inside of the ravioli was..." he pauses. I feel tension blanketing us as we wait for him to speak. 

"Lobster. Sorry Mary and Bella, but you're out of the running," Gordon shrugs as Bella whines.

"Now, for the purée. I have to say I'm surprised about this one.  The pink fish I used for the inside of the ravioli was in fact..." he glances down the chef lineup, "salmon. Which means Abel is out. Sorry, my good man. Should have brought up your other plate."

His other plate? Of course, Abel would go so far as to make two different plates when he wasn't absolutely sure about the filling. Sure enough, there is a second beautiful plate of ravioli sitting at Abel's station, likely made exactly how Gordon made his dish.

Abel sighs, bowing his head. 

"Everyone was right about the tomato chutney and the lemon vinaigrette. As for the herbs, they were basil and sorrel," Gordon says matter-of-factly. "As far as presentation, only Abel and Taylor remembered to cut the pasta properly into what I like to call eyeball shapes, which involves trimming the extra pasta off the sides. But that isn't what I'll be judging the final dishes on."

"Taylor, (Y/N), you both were correct about the lobster reduction sauce, but in this case, Taylor was the only one with the sauce actually on her ravioli, which means Taylor is the winner of this challenge!" Gordon claps his hands and Taylor beams at him, then turns the same grin to me. I smile in return- if anyone won aside from me and Abel, I'm glad it's my best friend.

"Now, Taylor. While the others are here shelling thousands of pistachios and hand-churning ice cream, you'll be headed to Sur La Table for to buy yourself anything your heart desires before returning in time for dinner service tonight. But of course, you're welcome to bring a friend. Who would you like to take with you?" Gordon asks, tilting his head.

"I'd like to take..." Taylor purses her lips, tapping her foot. 

I can't help the selfish part of me that holds out hope that she'll pick me. I'd love to spend a day in Vegas, I've never been gambling.

"I think Red's hand needs a break. I'd like to take her with me," she smiles, but it's only a half-smile this time as her hazel eyes dart to mine apologetically.

I nod. It makes sense, Red might not have been much use for the punishment anyways, considering her fingers are burned as well, just not as severely as her wrist. I look over at the bandage that covers half her arm. Poor Red.

"Here is a thousand dollars to split between you, enjoy yourselves! Your limo awaits, ladies," Gordon hands over a stack of hundred dollar bills to Taylor, who's eyes light up. 

"Thanks so much, Chef," she bounces in place, nudging Red's shoulder as she steps forward next to Tay.

"Thank you for taking me, Taylor," Red says bashfully as Tay shoves half the bills into Red's un-burnt hand. 

"No problemo amigo, let's get going!" Taylor shoots me one last remorseful look before taking Red's arm and skipping towards the exit.

"Alright, you three," Gordon turns to address Bella, Abel, and me. "Today will be a long day. You'll need to shell a couple thousand pistachios, then hand-churn pistachio ice cream for tonight's dessert. Of course, after all of that, you'll need to prep the kitchens for tonight's dinner service. Be sure to have everything done on time because tonight there will be an elimination. Got it?"

"Yes, Chef!" we respond.

"Then chop chop, get to it!" he claps again before turning on his heel and heading towards his office.


	117. The Thirteenth Dinner Service Part 1/3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our thirteenth dinner service involves everyone taking a chance at running the pass! Let's see how good everyone is at this point, eh?

Wednesday, July 17th, 2013

My fingers are sore and raw after we finally managed to get through the pistachios, which made churning the ice cream all the more difficult. Aside from small talk, there was a question about our dinner when Bella asked how it went. Abel responded with 'We all had a great time,' and not much else. A great time was the understatement of the century, but I merely smiled at him and got on with the punishment. Then came the prep work, which took even longer due to the fact I winced every time I touched anything with my fingertips. The pain finally starts to dull by the time that Tay and Red get back from their shopping trip with huge bags full of goodies. 

"Honey, I'm home!" Taylor sings as she waltzes through the kitchen, bumping my hip with hers and grinning as she passes.

"Welcome back, ladies," I return the grin and continue peeling the lettuce heads for tonight's dinner service. Red ducks shyly through the kitchen, hauling bags nearly as big as she is.

It's OK that Tay took Red, honestly. I'm sure Gordon would provide me with any cooking supplies I'd ever want or need. I imagine his kitchen at home is incredible, I'd spend all day in there cooking any sort of meal I could dream up. I'm glad Red got to spend time relaxing and having fun rather than having to use her already-burnt hand to toil away with manual labor.

"Would you like some help, Mary?" Abel asks, turning away from where he had been filleting a sea bass to wash his hands.

"No, thank you though," she bows her head and attempts to drag the bags along, wincing as the handles rub against her raw skin.

"Are you sure?" Abel frowns, drying his hands off on a towel.

"Well," Red huffs, "I guess I could use some help. This bag is awfully heavy," she cringes as she places the larger of the two bags on the floor.

"It's no problem at all," Abel moves to the bag and lifts it, letting Red lead the way out of the kitchen.

"Thanks, Abel..."

"Of course," he responds softly, trailing behind her as she exits the kitchen and turns towards the stairs leading to the dorms. After a minute, Tay, Abel, and Red re-enter the kitchen and get to checking over their assigned stations. Today, I'm on the fish station, Abel is on meats with Bella, Tay is on garnish, and Red is on appetizers.

The door to Gordon's office closes, drawing my attention to the staircase. Gordon moves through the dining room and up to the front of the kitchens, smiling briefly at me.

I wonder if the producers have come across Pietro's piece in the tabloid. It has only been a day, so I try to comfort myself with the knowledge that the producers likely haven't seen it yet. I don't know what exactly Pietro said, but even if it doesn't directly name me, I have to be even more careful. 

Gordon's voice brings me from my thoughts before I can get too entrenched in the possibilities.

"Tonight will be the first dinner service you all have as black jacket chefs, and I expect to be blown away by your stellar performance, yeah? Are you all ready for tonight?" he asks, rubbing his hands together, his eyes darting to each of us.

"Yes, Chef!"

"Excellent, I'm excited to see how you all work as a team," he bounces on his toes. "Taylor, Mary, did you enjoy yourselves?"

The two girls nod, smiling at Ramsay. "Yes, thank you, Chef," Taylor responds.

"Not a problem, you earned it," he winks, "Dinner service will be starting in a moment. JP?" Gordon calls out into the dining room over his shoulder.

"Oui, Chef?" JP asks, already at the doors.

"Open the doors to Hell's Kitchen for our first black jacket service!"

"Oui, Chef," JP nods, pulling the doors open.

It doesn't take long before the dining room is bustling, filled to the brim with hungry and excited patrons. 

JP brings up the first ticket and Gordon reaches over the pass to take it.

"Before we begin, let me make something abundantly clear..." Gordon draws our attention from our stations, "The time for mistakes has passed, this is the big leagues and I need to see everyone at their very best. There will be an elimination tonight, so pour your heart into your work as if this is your last chance because it very well may be. Right?"

"Yes, Chef!" we respond, nodding from our stations. 

"And one more thing," a subtle grin spreads across his face, "Each of you will run the pass for me today. I'll call you up one by one, Chef Christina will cover your station as you take over. Once we get into a good flow, I'll call the first of you up."

My heart starts to pound. We'll be running the pass today? What will they try to screw me up with? In previous seasons, there were always tests of a chef's prowess in the kitchen. I have to keep my senses in high-gear to be sure nothing slips past me.

Gordon glances down at the ticket, taking in a deep breath. "First ticket, table twelve. Two scallops, two Caesar salads, and one stuffed mushroom. Time?" 

"Ten minutes, Chef!" Red calls from the appetizer station. She then starts to prep the mushrooms to slide them into the oven.

I prep my station with enough scallops to fill two orders. Gordon gets a second ticket and turns to us.

"We'll see how you all handle multiple tickets at a time, this one should come out before the first. One scallop, one capellini. What's the time on that?"

"Seven minutes, Chef," Red responds again, setting a pan on the burner.

I set out another batch of scallops, waiting for Red's cue. She is working hard and fast, but I can't help noticing her cringes of pain as she uses her burnt hand. It is wrapped in a gauze bandage that nearly reaches her elbow, but I know from experience that bandages and ointment barely do anything to help the pain of a second-degree burn. 

"Let me know if there is any way I can assist, Mary," Abel says from across the kitchen. Red nods at him before stirring her pan and dropping the noodles, calling out for me to start on my scallops.

I sprinkle seasoning over the scallops and lay them down into the non-stick pan, waiting for them to develop that beautiful golden crust. I flip them and admire the golden flecks on the scallops before sliding them off into a tray to drain before bringing them up to the pass with Red's capellini.

Gordon checks them both over and plates the food before sending it out. 

"Mary, you're up first," he calls. Red steps away and Sous Chef Christina quickly takes over the apps station. Gordon whispers something to Red and nods towards the next ticket.

"We're still working on the first ticket, guys. Two scallops, two Caesar salads, and two- I mean, one stuffed mushroom. Where are we at?" she asks quietly.

I glance up at her, then across the kitchen at the other stations. I'm the closest to her, but it doesn't seem anyone else has heard her. I shout back, "five minutes, I think."

Gordon takes Red's un-bandaged arm and pulls her aside, again talking to her. She nods then turns back towards us. "Two scallops, two Caesar salads, and one stuffed mushroom! How long?"

"Four minutes, Chef!" Tay calls from where she's assembling salads. 

I drop the two batches of scallops and cook them carefully, watching the time. Tay brings up her salads and Christina slides in the stuffed mushroom plate beside the greens. I slide the scallops from the pan and bring them up as well. 

Red checks the food over, poking my scallops. She seems to think they're alright because she nods and plates the food, setting it up at the pass. She turns to us and calls out the next ticket much louder than she had been speaking before.

"Two capellini, one scallop, two stuffed mushrooms!" 

"Oh, come on..." Gordon pinches the bridge of his nose, "which table? You have to remember to read the entire ticket or they're going to get confused if they haven't gotten confused already!"

"Oh yeah, table nineteen. What do we need? Or, uh, when... how long!?" she stumbles over her words.

"What?" Bella crosses her arms from her station, glowering at Red.

"How long on the ticket?" Red huffs.

"Uh, duh! Obviously! But you didn't say what was on it!" Bella scowls.

Red's eyebrows draw together in frustration. "I just said it was one capellini, one scallop, two stuffed mushroom!"

Abel and I exchange confused glances across the kitchen.

"Do you mean two capellini?" Abel asks hesitantly.

Red sighs, slumping her shoulders. "Yeah, two. Sorry."

"Mary, what the hell is going on?" Gordon takes her arm again and leads her away from the pass, looking frustrated. "We're still on appetizers and you've got the kitchen falling apart!"

Red dips her head. "I'm sorry, Chef. I- I'm... not used to it having people yelling at me and having to yell at them."

Gordon sighs exasperatedly. "You want a head chef position but you can't muster up the courage to shout orders to your brigade?"

"I..." her lower lip wobbles.

"Pull yourself together, yeah? It's still early. You can recover this, don't give up," Gordon tries to motivate her, but his frustration seeps into his voice.

"OK, Chef," she forcibly stops her lip from trembling and nods once. "How long on the apps, Christina?"

"Eight minutes," Christina from the apps station. 

I notice Tay shooting a remorseful look at Red from where she stirs the garnish for the capellini.

Man, only a few minutes on the pass and Red is struggling. I wonder if Bella and Tay will have a hard time as well. I'm lucky that I've gotten experience on the pass already, and I find it hard to worry about Abel. I know he's got this.

Christina brings up the two capellini and sets them alongside my scallops.

Red checks over the food and plates it.

"Happy with those?" Gordon asks, nodding at the plates.

"Uh..." Red looks over them before returning the nod. "Yeah, Chef."

"Oh bloody hell..." Gordon grabs a handful of the pasta, "This is angel hair, not capellini pasta!" he shakes it in front of her face. "Look! The thickness is completely off! Come on!"

"Christina, two capellini please for real this time!" Red calls to Christina over the handful of pasta. Christina gives her a thumbs up while Gordon throws the pasta into the nearby bin and moves to wash his hands in the sink at the back.

That sure is a difficult test trying to tell the difference between pasta thickness! I am not sure if I would have gotten that right. I'll have to be extra careful when it's my turn.

"OK, next ticket. Two stuffed mushrooms, one Caesar salad, and one... wait," Red stares down at the ticket before turning towards the pass. 

"JP!"

"Oui?" JP responds from a nearby table he had been greeting.

"We don't have any crab cakes today, please re-write this ticket!" she requests.

JP nods curtly before approaching the pass and taking the ticket from her hand. She turns around, looking frustrated.

Gordon, having finished washing his hands, returns to the pass even more fed-up. 

"Always read the ticket in your head before calling it out, Mary. Come on," Gordon runs his fingers through his hair and lets out a deep sigh.

"Sorry, Chef," she bites her lower lip and casts her eyes down at her burnt hand.

Well, this isn't starting off on the right foot...


	118. The Thirteenth Dinner Service Part 2/3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We'll see how the next contestants fair running the pass...

Wednesday, July 17th, 2013

"Mary, you've done enough damage. Clear off, would you? Bella, let's see if you can recover this shitfest," Gordon calls Bella over, who leaves the meat station with a skip. Red sheepishly slides into her apps station while Christina heads to take over Bella's spot, even though I'm sure Abel could handle meats on his own.

"Sorry, guys," Red apologizes as she clears off her station for the next order.

"It's alright, just keep your head up," I try to keep her driving towards the finish line, but her overall demeanor screams defeat. Still, she takes a few deep breaths and nods at me once.

" ** _Guys_! Hey! The next ticket is _in_! Table twenty-eight, two stuffed mushroom, one scallop, one Caesar salad!!!**" Bella screeches from the pass. All of our heads whip to her, but we're not the only ones. Nearly every patron in the dining room also turns to look towards the source of the banshee wail. The dining room goes nearly silent.

"Bella, what the fuck?" Gordon's face is twisted in agony having been right next to her as she shrieked out the ticket.

"I- I'm trying to be assertive, Chef," Bella looks at Gordon with confusion. 

"Assertive is fine, a fucking tornado siren is not! The diners are trying to enjoy a meal, they didn't sign up to attend a screamo concert," Gordon uncovers his ears uneasily, as if he expects her to start up again.

"Sorry," Bella timidly calls out to us at a much more reasonable volume. The chatter in the dining room starts up again hesitantly.

"Erm, so, about those two mushroom, one scallop, one salad... how long?" Bella asks us.

"Seven minutes, Chef," Red responds.

"Good, alright," Bella taps her foot. 

"Well?" Gordon prompts her.

" _Hm_?" she mumbles, staring out into the kitchen.

"Are you going to prep the mushroom and scallop plates, or are you expecting me to do everything?" 

"Oh! Yeah, sorry, I was being a supervisor," she starts to move plates around and set them out.

"All well and good, but you still have to do your head chef duties. I'm not kidding when I say I'll leave you here to do the entire thing yourself if I feel like you aren't stepping up," Gordon threatens, to which she nods.

We bring up the order with no problems and Bella sends it out, looking happy. 

"We're onto entrees, guys! Nice, OK, so let's get one beef Wellington, one New York strip, and one salmon for table sixteen!" Bella calls.

"Yes, Chef!" we respond, getting to work. Red leaves apps and becomes a floater, moving around between stations to help where she can.

"How long on that Wellie, Abel?" I ask.

He looks up at me, his light blue eyes locking onto mine. "How about fifteen minutes?" 

I swallow, feeling my temperature rise a bit. "Oh, yeah, that's good."

"Excellent," he grins, turning to his New York strip.

If I look to my left there's Abel and if I look to my right, there's Gordon. Either way I glance, I can't help my eyes from wandering to them, so I keep my head down and focus on my salmon so I don't get distracted.

We bring up the food to the pass and I watch carefully to see if Christina has sabotaged any of the meat. Honestly, even if she did sabotage it, she'd have to be extra sneaky to slip it past Abel. 

Or maybe she would have prepared her sabotage beforehand, so Abel wouldn't be able to catch it before it was too late...

"Uhm, this is not beef, Christina. It's like, duck? Maybe?" Bella holds out the plate to Christina, who dips her head.

"Sorry, Chef. I'll get on making a new-" she starts.

"It's quite alright, I have a replacement right here," Abel brings up a fresh Wellington with steam still rising from it. He casts a knowing glance at Christina, who smiles slightly. He must have known she'd sabotaged the wellie, but let her send it up for her little test, which Bella passed flawlessly.

"Well done, Bella. Well done indeed," Gordon praises her, the tension he had felt earlier slowly melting off his face.

Bella smiles brightly before taking the next ticket from JP and turning around to face us.

"Next ticket is for a six-top, table thirty. Three Wellington, one trout, one salmon, and one New York strip!" she shouts, "Time?"

"Give us sixteen minutes, Chef," Christina calls from the meat station. I set out my trout and salmon, prepared to cook them when Abel or Christina gives me the nod.

So far, we're working together in perfect harmony, aside from a few slip-ups under Red's command. I get the nod from Abel and set my fish to cook, skin side down first.

After a few minutes, Christina nods to me and we both head up to the pass with our food. I set down my salmon and immediately notice that Christina has slipped a different cut of steak instead of a New York as Bella's next test.

Bella grabs the pans and immediately plates the steaks without a second thought. Gordon lets her grab the pan of mashed potatoes that Red had brought up from Taylor's station before he stops her. 

"Bella, are you sure about the food you've plated?" he asks. 

She looks down at the steak, the salmon, and the Wellington. "Is the fish under-cooked?"

"Well don't ask me, it's your job to check, right?" Gordon responds exasperatedly. 

"Oh, yeah," she uses a fork to flake the salmon apart a bit. "Looks over-cooked, actually. (Y/N), new salmon please!" she calls out to me. 

Over-cooked? There's no wa-

"What?" Gordon interrupts my thought, "That's perfectly cooked, Bella. I'm talking about the steak!" he slaps his palm to his forehead.

"What about it, Chef?" she asks obliviously.

"It's a rump steak, not a New York strip!" he groans.

"Oh... Bring up a New York, then, Christina? Abel?" she requests.

"On it!" Christina grabs a pan with the proper cut of steak in it, bringing it up to the pass.

"Plate that and send it out, I need Abel up here next," Gordon nods to Abel, who sets his prepared Wellington on the countertop next to the oven and wipes his hands off on a dishtowel in preparation for joining Gordon at the front. 

Bella sends out the plates then takes over Abel's spot. I am incredibly curious as to how Gordon and Christina think they can slip anything past Abel. He's not going to be fooled by the wrong cut of steak or improper thickness of noodles. If they want him to have a chance of slipping up, they'll have to give it their all.

"Table eight, I need three New York, one salmon, and one halibut. Do you think you can have that up to me in fifteen?" Abel's voice comes in strong and clear over the kitchen. 

"Sure thing, Chef!" I shout back, pulling out my salmon and halibut. Abel had filleted these, so they look even more gorgeous than usual.

While I wait for Bella and Christina to let me know when they're ready for me to start, my eyes travel to the two blond men working the pass together. Gordon is explaining the plating procedure to Abel, who listens at rapt attention. From the back, their hairstyles and Abel's slender torso, as opposed to Gordon's wide one, are the only differences that I can discern between the two. Abel says something to Gordon while setting out plates that gets Gordon laughing. He slaps Abel's back and shakes his head, grinning widely. 

"Hey, earth to (Y/N)! Stop drooling over your guy and drop those fish!" I snap my attention to Bella, who is standing by the oven watching me incredulously. 

"Oh, fuck. Sorry," I mumble before dropping my fish in separate oiled pans. My _guys_ , my head corrects her. I find myself giggling before I can help it and clear my throat, trying to focus on my fish.

I bring up my fish right after Christina and Bella bring their meat up. Taylor has been on-point with her garnish; it is always waiting at the pass right on time thanks to Red's prompt delivery.

Abel meticulously checks over everything, scanning over the pans of food with eagle eyes and poking at it, checking temperatures and doneness.

When he determines everything is alright, he picks up the purée bottle to prep the plate, then pauses. He stands still for a moment in thought before he squeezes a bit of the purée onto a spoon, tasting it.

"This is parsnip purée, not cauliflower," he sets the bottle down and looks to Gordon.

"Wow, well done," Gordon doesn't hide his awe at Abel having caught that he switched out the purée when his back was turned. He picks up the correct purée from under the counter and hands it to Abel, who preps the plates quickly and carefully.

Ooh, wow. I never even considered tasting the freakin' purée. Gordon must have thought long and hard about how he could trip up Abel, and Abel still managed to catch it. 

Abel turns to us after having read the next ticket.

"Table twenty-two, one Wellington, one halibut, one strip. How fast can I get that?" 

"I can do twelve minutes, Chef!" Christina calls from the grill. 

"Alright, I'll count on that," Abel responds.

There is going to be another test for him, but what sort? My mind busies itself with trying to concoct an idea of something that might cause Abel to fumble. Another ticket is called and brought up, and still, the second sabotage hasn't come. Maybe they're trying to lull him into a false sense of security, or maybe they're trying to see if he'll find a problem where there isn't one. So far, all he's asked for is a little extra seasoning here and there and some extra time on a too-rare steak, nothing major.

I have the next order's fish prepped and ready to be brought up. I follow Tay to the pass and she grins at me, nodding towards Abel's back. 

"Do you think he's gonna catch the next test?" she whispers as we head back towards our stations.

I glance back over at him before returning my eyes to Taylor and nodding. Of course he will. She and I stand behind our stations and wait for the next ticket to be called, watching Abel carefully.

Abel inspects the fish and then the meat before moving to plate them. He plates the fish then turns to the steaks, picking it up. As he moves the steak towards the plate, he freezes as it passes by his face.

He brings the steak up to his nose and sniffs it before setting the steak down.

"Is there really sugar on this steak instead of salt?" he questions, motioning towards the steak. Gordon looks ready to burst with a wide grin as Abel raises an eyebrow at him.

"There sure is, absolutely well done. I really thought we'd get you with that one," Gordon nudges Abel's side with his elbow.

"Can I get a fresh New York that isn't coated in sugar, please?" Abel asks the meat station. Bella rushes to the pass with a fresh New York, setting it down. Abel plates it and sends it off, smiling subtly. 

I feel Gordon's eyes on me. I turn around from my station just as he says, "(Y/N), you're up next!"


	119. The Thirteenth Dinner Service Part 3/3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dramatic conclusion to our thirteenth dinner service!

Wednesday, July 17th, 2013

Gordon watches me expectantly as I approach the pass. _Breathe_. I can do this. I've done it before... except this time, Gordon will be trying to slip me up. The pressure is intense. Coupled with the fact that there will be an elimination tonight, my fingertips begin to tingle as adrenaline courses through me.

When I reach Gordon's side, he takes my shoulders in his hands and his eyes lock onto mine.

"Concentrate, stay relaxed, keep your chin up, yeah?" he squeezes my shoulders. "You'll do great."

"Yes, Chef," I take a deep breath and steady myself, drawing strength from his touch. 

JP leans over the pass holding out the next ticket. I savor the last seconds of Gordon's hands on me before he releases me and I turn to the pass and take the ticket from JP.

I read it over first to be sure JP hasn't tried to give me a test already, but it all looks alright.

"Everyone, table thirty-one's ticket is in! One salmon, one Wellie and two strips, how fast can I get that?" I shout to the kitchen.

"Give me fifteen minutes, Chef!" Bella shuffles her pans around. 

"Alright, be sure to let Christina know when to drop her fish!" I remind her.

"Gotcha." Bella nods.

I busy myself with prepping the plates for the table. Gordon stands close to my side, watching my hands as they move about the pass. I'm on high alert– the test is most likely to come from Christina, but after seeing Abel get a different purée at the pass, I'm wary of everything. 

Oh well, at least it gives me a good reason to keep my eyes on Gordon.

I notice Christina begin to cook her fish and squint as I attempt to tell if she's put on the right sort of fish, but I can't tell from this distance.

"How are we doing, guys? How much longer?" I ask.

"Maybe three minutes," Tay responds, stirring her pan of garnish. I notice that Red has moved from helping Tay to helping out fish instead.

Bella pulls out the meat and sets it to rest while Abel prepares a few steaks on the grill for the next tickets. When he notices me watching him, he gives a half-smile and glances down at his steaks then back up at me, his smile widening. 

"Garnish ready to go, milady!" Taylor breaks my attention from Abel as she bows exaggeratedly when she sets the garnish for the steaks, fish, and Wellington down all at once. I do a quick check over them to make sure nothing is under or overcooked. When I determine everything to be perfect, I grin at her.

"Nice work, Tay! Keep it up," I shout.

"Fo' sho', boss!" she nods at me and returns the grin.

A minute later, Bella brings up the strips and Wellington while Red trails behind with Christina's salmon. 

I check the salmon and find it to be a tad bit under-cooked.

"Christina, two minutes more on this fish?" I ask, holding the fish out to Red. Red approaches the pass and takes the fish.

Once the fish makes it back to her station, Christina responds with, "No problem, Chef."

Once she brings it back up properly cooked, I go over the food.

Out of extreme carefulness, I check the purée before I set it on the plates. Gordon's eyes twinkle mischievously as he watches me check over everything. 

Once I'm done setting everything on its plates, he nods towards the food.

"Happy with that?" he asks. He asks this to everyone nearly every time the plates are about to be sent, but I want to be absolutely sure that I am happy before I tell him yes.

I re-examine everything meticulously. Food is perfect, there's the right amount of garnish, it's all seasoned properly... Oh.

The plates.

Oh my God, the plates are square instead of round! 

"No, Chef," I say as I take the meats and garnishes off the improper plates.

"What's wrong?" Gordon inquires, the glint still in his eyes.

"Plates are square, they should be round, ugh." I groan as I pile the plates and set them aside, pulling out the proper plates. I had let Gordon set out the plates for me, not realizing he'd try to slip me up with something unrelated to the actual food itself. 

"Nice catch, hurry up though before the food gets cold, yeah?" he helps me to prep the plates and set the food upon them before we send the ticket out.

Well, at least I caught it before I requested them to be sent out. What's next? Is Gordon going to replace the blood in a New York with red food coloring dyed water? Or maybe use veal instead of beef? There are so many aspects to consider it makes my head spin. When the next ticket comes in, I read it over three times before speaking it aloud.

"Six top, table forty. Two Wellington, one salmon, two halibut, and one New York– can I get a time?"

"We're ready in eight if you guys are," Abel says, looking to Christina and then to Tay. 

"Yeah, no problem." Christina nods, spritzing her pan with olive oil.

"It's just vegetables and sauce, I'll manage," Tay says as she drops the garnish in the pan in front of her.

"How are you feeling?" Gordon asks, using his towel to wipe up the pass in preparation for the next batch of plates.

"Anxious, hot, sorta like I'm running a race," I respond as I set out the proper plates this time.

"That's every day at the head of the kitchen. These customers are depending on you to provide them a stellar experience each and every time they arrive. You are the final line of defense and you must be prepared to handle anything that comes your way," Gordon's deep blue eyes meet mine, "Are you? Ready for anything, that is?"

I can't help feeling like there is a double entendre in his sentence, yet I still nod determinedly. "Yes, Chef."

The food reaches the pass as I finish my sentence and I turn to examine it. On my second pass over, I stop on the halibut fillets. 

"Hm," I lean towards one of the fish and use a fork to pull apart some of the fish. It immediately flakes– which is usually a sign of being cooked well– but in the case of a halibut, it shoots off warning signals. Halibut should be more firm and meaty, and the fillets are flatter than a halibut would be.

"This is flounder, Chef," I say, gesturing to the fish.

"Extremely well spotted, good girl." Gordon nudges my side with his arm and I force my cheeks to stay neutral at the mention of 'good girl'. I swear, sometimes it feels like he says these things just to get me to squirm.

"Christina, get the lady her two halibut, please?" Gordon shouts into the kitchen while I recover my voice. 

"Right here, Chef." Christina brings up the correct fish and I plate them delicately before sending out the ticket.

"Excellent work, (Y/N). Can I get Taylor up here, please?" Gordon requests. He places his hand on the small of my back and lightly pushes me towards the kitchen. 

Taylor beams as she takes over the pass, bouncing in place with excitement. She takes the ticket from JP and clears her throat when she turns to us.

"Lemme get two Wellies, a salmon, and one strip for table eight, please!" she calls out to us.

Time flies and soon enough, Taylor has the plates in front of her. I notice a look of concentration on her features as she squints her eyes, turning the Wellies this way and that.

"We're gonna need a new Wellie, this one is overcooked," Taylor looks out towards the meat station.

"Overcooked?" Bella looks shocked.

"Did you forget to take it out when I'd asked?" Abel asks Bella.

"No! I took it out right when you said to!" she defends herself, but Abel doesn't look convinced.

"Are you sure? I saw you step away for a while..."

"God, yeah, I'm sure you fuckin' hardass. You can mess up sometimes too, you know! Maybe you called the time wrong!"

Abel's lips become a thin line as he attempts to keep from fueling Bella's fire. 

"Fine, I'll handle the replacement Wellies. You just, I don't know, do something else," he grabs the Wellingtons and sets them into the oven, standing nearby. "We'll need fifteen minutes."

Gordon pinches between his eyebrows, letting out a deep sigh. 

"Sorry, Chef," Taylor tries to apologize, but Gordon holds a hand up.

"Not your fault, but I'm not quite sure whose fault it is. It bothers me greatly when people don't fess up," he announces loudly and angrily towards the meat station. I notice Bella's shoulders tense, but she doesn't look his way. "Redo the ticket, everyone. Fuck!" 

After another grueling fifteen minutes, our food is at the pass again. Gordon leaves Taylor to her checking, instead focusing on sprucing up the plates. 

"Hey, Christina?" Taylor asks out into the kitchen.

"Yeah, Chef?"

"Isn't this hollandaise sauce? I needed a lemon vinaigrette, not this!" Tay requests.

"Well spotted indeed, Taylor!" Gordon compliments her, his frustration melting off him. "Finally, some damn progress in this kitchen. We're behind, ladies and gentlemen! Can we rush the next ticket, Taylor?"

Tay nods. "I'll do ya one better, Chef. Let's try two at once, since these are both two-tops... if that's alright?" 

Gordon looks at the two tickets. "If you think you can do it, I'd say do it so we can get to desserts."

Taylor pulls both the tickets at once. "I'm going to need table five, two top, both salmon. Then table thirty-one, two top, two New York. Can you guys get those out to me soon?"

"Is ten minutes OK, (Y/N)?" Abel asks.

I glance down at my fish, then back over at him. "Yeah, I can do that."

Red approaches my side timidly. "Hey, can I help with anything?" 

Letting someone else take over part of my responsibility will reflect badly on me if she doesn't do well, but I trust Red. I look at my pans, then slide her one. "You can finish the second salmon?"

She smiles at me as she takes over the pan. "Thanks, (Y/N)."

We finish our fish at the same time, following Christina's garnish up to the pass. Bella comes last, carrying the two strips and setting them out.

"Happy with that?" Gordon asks before she begins to set the food out. Taylor looks over the pans, checks the doneness of the steaks and fish, then the garnish before nodding.

"Looks alright, Chef," she says, picking up the pan of steaks.

"Taylor, what is this garnish being used for?" he holds up a pan of garnish.

"For hali- oh..." Taylor freezes in place. 

"Yeah, for a halibut that doesn't happen to be on any of the tickets we've just done. If doing two tickets at once was too much for you, you should have said something." Gordon sighs.

"It's not too much for me, Chef!" she protests.

"Clearly it is, you were on garnish all day and now you can't even remember what garnish goes with each fish!" Gordon fires back. 

I see Taylor's chest rising and falling rapidly as she glares at Ramsay, who is very clearly not going to back down as he towers over her.

She opens her mouth to say something then shuts it, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She turns away from him and addresses Christina instead. "Can I get some salmon garnish, please?" she says, her voice strained.

"Two minutes," Christina acknowledges her. 

Two tense minutes later, she brings up the proper garnish. Taylor plates the food without another word to Ramsay and sends it out.

We've already been working on scooping the pistachio ice cream into nice little glass cups to be served, so all we need to do now is bring them up. With two ice creams in each hand at a time, we carry them to the front and set them down. Gordon gets all the complimentary ice cream sent out, then rubs his hands together.

"Well, it could have gone smoother, but we did finish the day. Unfortunately, nothing would have stopped tonight from being an elimination night," his eyes trail over us.

"I need you all to choose two of you who shouldn't be a part of the final four. Go on upstairs and deliberate, I'll call you back down when I'm ready."

Abel and I glance at each other and Taylor takes my hand in hers, squeezing tightly. I know Gordon got under her skin when he insulted her garnish capabilities, but I also know she's blaming herself for her mistakes.

Hopefully, it isn't bad enough to convince everyone that she's the one who needs to go. Being the last one up to the pass certainly didn't help things, what with her problem being fresh on everyone's minds.

I have to keep my mind centered. 

Who deserves to be sent home?


	120. Elimination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out who the final four are...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines Day my loves!

Wednesday, July 17th, 2013

Upstairs, we settle into the sitting area. Taylor and Abel sit on either side of me on the couch while Bella and Red sit across from us in the armchairs.

We are silent for some time before Red lets out a deep sigh. "Alright guys, I'll spare you all from deciding and go ahead and volunteer myself to go up there."

"You shouldn't volunteer yourself, Red," Bella interjects. "If Gordon hears that he might think you don't want to be here."

"Well," I counter, "I volunteered myself early on, and Gordon still knew I wanted to be here."

Bella rolls her eyes. "Fine, ignore me. What do I know? I'm only in the final five!"

"We're _all_ in the final five," Taylor quips, drawing a glare from Bella.

"Whatever. I don't care who is voted to go home as long as it's not me," Bella crosses her arms.

"Who do you think should go home, Abel?" Red tilts her head.

"Still thinking. It might help if we go over what happened tonight. Who missed one or both of their tests?" Abel looks around the group.

"The next hearing test I take I'm gonna fail because of Bella's air horn screeching," Taylor grimaces.

"I was trying to be assertive!" Bella defensively shouts.

"Your voice is shrieky enough as is– no need to make it worse." Taylor retorts.

Bella glares, looking like she's about to hop from her armchair and tear at Taylor's curly hair when Abel speaks.

"Bella, Taylor, let's be civil. I get that tensions are high but-"

"Easy for you to say, Mr. Perfect," Bella sneers, "You've never even been upped, have you?"

Abel sits up in his seat and locks eyes with her, yet says nothing.

"See? You have no idea what it's like to be on the receiving end of criticism!" Bella responds haughtily.

"I certainly do." Abel's expression hardens.

"What, widdle Abel forgot seasoning once?" She huffs.

"I've been studying the culinary arts since I was fifteen, Bella. I had no friends and my family was on a different continent. When I failed, I had no one but myself to blame and no one to help comfort me." He sets his hands in his lap and pointedly glowers at her.

"I wasn't automatically good at what I do. It took hard work and determination and many sleepless nights as I went over my failures and struggled to perfect my flaws. So, yes, I've had few errors since coming to Hell's Kitchen, but don't you dare tell me I have no idea what it is like to receive criticism. You could fill a book with the amount of critique I've received." His tone is harsh.

Bella gapes before averting her eyes and responding much quieter, "Fine, gees..."

"Uh, back on the subject of the sabotage," Taylor tries to ease the tension in the room. "I caught that Christina made the wrong sauce, but I didn't catch the pan of incorrect garnish."

I glance at Taylor, then at Bella who is studying the phone beside her chair rather than meeting anyone's eyes. "As for me, I almost missed Gordon putting out the wrong plates but caught them at the last second. Not sure if that counts, but I thought I'd mention it anyway," I gulp. "But I did catch the wrong type of fish being used."

"Since when is he Gordon?" Red cocks her head.

 _Fuck,_ _did I really say Gordon_? I bite my lower lip and glance at Red. "Sorry. I mean Chef Ramsay."

Bella shrugs. "I call him Gordon when I talk about him to other people too, so it's whatever. Not everything has to be all formal."

"I'd never call him Gordon; I'm too nervous," Red sheepishly responds, pulling her legs up to her chest in the chair and wincing as her hand brushes against her chef's pants.

"Anyyyyways," Bella draws out the word, "I caught the wrong meat in the Wellington but I kinda messed up on the steak."

"Kinda? It was a rump steak, not a strip." Taylor slaps her forehead.

"Hey, you try telling the difference! They're really similar!" Bella tears her eyes from the phone and trains them challengingly on Taylor.

"I'd be happy to, actually." Taylor removes her palm from her forehead and meets Bella's eyes.

"Well, if I tested you now you'd already know one was wrong, so it isn't a fair test anyway!"

"Ladies, please, Chef Ramsay is going to call us any minute and we need to have a decision or he's going to be upset with all of us," Abel interrupts. "I caught both my tests, so now we have to decide who is going up alongside Red."

Bella slouches in her chair. "Like I said, I don't care. Anyone but me."

"You need to vote, Bella," Red pipes up. "It isn't fair to leave the burden on everyone else."

"Fine! Eeny, meeny, miny, moe," Bella jabs her finger at each of us, "I think you're the one who needs to go!" She lands her finger on Abel.

"What?" Taylor, Red, and I echo in tandem.

"What, what, ladies? You asked me to vote, so there it is!" Bella crosses her arms again and turns away from the conversation.

"We aren't going to get anything else out of her, are we?" Taylor groans.

"Based on the performance today, I'll have to say Taylor and Bella seemed to have the most difficulty." Abel frowns slightly.

"Yeah, Taylor and Bella. But which one?" Red muses.

I'm thankful I've not been mentioned even though I slipped up on the plates, but the look on Taylor's face makes me anxious. Previously, I'd gone up in her place... but stepping up for someone else is crazy to attempt at this point in the game. Bella was at least partially right– Gordon wouldn't likely appreciate me volunteering yet again.

"Bella is my vote," I say with finality. I'm not upping Taylor, not if I don't have to. Bella flicks me off from her chair.

"I think that Taylor should have been able to catch the wrong pan of garnish. Bella was loud and, I mean, I guess that's a good thing for a head chef? I'm going with Tay. I'm sorry," Red whispers.

"If I were a vengeful person, I'd go with Bella," Abel nods towards her and she turns her middle finger from me to him, "but I do believe Taylor should have caught that garnish. Bella just stands out in my mind due to her outburst."

"I'm going with Bella, obviously," Taylor rolls her shoulders as Bella's middle finger makes a full pass across the couch. "We can assume Bella would vote for me if she wasn't being a sourpuss, so I guess I'm up with Red."

"Tay, you don't have to-" I start.

"(Y/N), it's cool. I know Bella wouldn't vote for herself and I already have two votes. I'm going up," she says with finality.

I reach over and take her hand in mine. She squeezes back and smiles sadly just as the phone rings.

Bella– whose chair is next to the phone– reaches over and lazily holds it to her ear. "Yeah, what's up?"

" _Mmhm_ ," she nods, looking down at her nails.

"Alright, bye Chef." She hangs up the phone. "Let's go down and get this over with."

Taylor and I continue holding hands as we head down the stairs after Abel. Red trails behind us and Bella follows up the rear. In a few moments, we're lined up in the spotlight in front of Ramsay. 

Gordon crosses his arms and appraises his batch of black jacket chefs. His blond hair shines under the light. For a second, I forget my best friend is going to be standing in front of him for elimination. I grip her hand tighter.

"Well, have we come to a conclusion?" Gordon taps his foot.

"Yes, Chef!" We respond.

"Bella, who are you upping first and why?" He uncrosses his arms and runs his fingers through his hair.

"Actually, Chef, Red volunteered." Bella shrugs.

"Volunteered, eh?" Gordon cocks his head to the side.

"Yes Chef," Red steps forward. "I knew I had a sub-par performance today. I'm sorry."

"Well, come on then." Gordon gestures in front of him. "Your second nomination and why, Abel?"

"Chef, after some deliberation we decided to go with Taylor. She was on garnish and couldn't recognize she had the improper garnish for her protein." Abel slips his hands behind his back.

"Right, OK. Taylor, to the front please?" He opens his palm to the spot on his left. Taylor releases my hand and steps forward with one final nervous glance backward.

"Taylor, tell me why you deserve to stay in Hell's Kitchen." Gordon looks at her and none of his usual 'get this over with' demeanor is present. It seems he's truly keyed in on his final five.

"Chef, I know I was responsible for garnish today and I really screwed up when I didn't spot that I had the wrong garnish, but I'm not the type of girl to give up easily. Or ever, actually." She adds. "I'm here to win. If you'll have me, I'll do just that."

Gordon nods, turning to face Red.

"Mary, do tell me why you deserve to stay in Hell's Kitchen?"

"I don't."

Gordon does a double-take. "What? Am I hearing you correctly, love? You don't?"

"Yes, Chef." She stands tall but I can hear her voice wavering.

"On the contrary, you certainly do deserve to stay," Gordon defends her, "but please tell me why you think you don't?"

"Chef, I've had a lot of fun here, but after spending so long learning from you I have come to the conclusion that this job position isn't for me." She sighs. 

"Don't feel like you're mean enough?" Gordon jokes, raising an eyebrow.

She grins slightly. "Yeah, that and I really don't like to yell. I just... I don't. And after this burn, I got to thinking. I feel like I should consider a different career path. Or maybe, you know, not a head chef position."

Gordon steps forward and takes her un-burnt hand in his.

"Are you sure?" he looks down at her. She nods.

"You aren't giving up on cooking, are you? You really shouldn't, you have a lot of talent," he urges.

She shakes her head 'no'. "I don't think I could ever stop cooking, Chef. It's in my blood."

"Then I can let you go with a clear conscience. I didn't want to scare an incredible chef like you off from the joy of cooking." He releases her hand and she looks up at him.

"Thanks for the opportunity, Chef," she begins unbuttoning her jacket, wincing as she uses her burnt fingertips. 

"Stop," he commands, and her fingers still.

"Keep it. As I said, you deserve to be here," the conviction in his voice is unmistakable.

"Oh, I-" she looks down at her feet, blushing. "Thank you, Chef."

"And thank you, Red," he smiles at her before drawing her into a careful hug. When he releases her, she turns to us.

"Bye, guys! Keep on pushing for victory!" she waves with both her hands and steps towards the exit.

I notice tears rolling down Taylor's eyes as she waves at Red, shouting that she loves her. It is only when I see her tears that I realize I'm crying, too. 

"Good luck out there, Red!" I call out after her, "You're gonna do great no matter what you do!"

"I'm going to miss you," Bella whines, wringing her hands together as her eyes follow the poof of red curls towards the door.

"Wherever you go Red, know that you have friends here," Abel adds. I see the teeniest of nods come from Red before her tiny body disappears through the swinging doors of Hell's Kitchen for the final time.


	121. Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abel has something to tell us!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited Chapter 78: Promise Me to remove a certain stipulation Gordon had made about children if you'd like to read it over! There is also a long author's note at the bottom that is very important to read, if you would.

Wednesday, July 17th, 2013

I wipe my tears on my sleeve and glance at Abel, who smiles sadly. Hell's Kitchen lost some of it's light when she stepped out of those doors.

"My final four. Take a moment to ruminate on how it feels to stand where you are." Gordon takes a deep breath. "There is nothing like it. I promise, it only gets more intense from here. You'll feel things you never thought possible, you'll push yourself to and past limits you didn't know you had, and you'll pour your heart and soul out for the world to see."

His icy blue eyes bore into mine, conferring his true meaning. My breath hitches. Five more days and our secret will be out. Five more days I'll face an unrelenting storm of drama-thirsty media. No one has ever outed themselves as polyamorous on television, much less in front of a live audience, much less while already married. This moment has been in the back of my mind since Gordon suggested it, but now it feels real. It feels dangerous, like a predator whose eyes you can feel stalking you but lurks just out of sight. We have no idea how the world will respond to us, but I'm almost certain it won't be positive.

I had my first taste of the paparazzi's thirst for drama when I saw the tabloid. The interview team will have seen it by now. I wonder if they've harassed Gordon about it yet. There's no way Janice hasn't been hounding him ever since she saw the gossip. I'll have to ask him what went on when I get a second alone with him, which will be even more difficult if Janice suspects me as his 'affair' partner.

"Ladies and gentle-man," Gordon enunciates the 'man' with a smile, "get some good rest tonight because tomorrow we have a flight to catch!" 

"Oh shit! Are you serious?" Bella squeals, her eyes widening into saucers.

"Quite serious, darling. We'll be headed to none other than Las Vegas to stay in the amazing Paris hotel!" He grins widely as we take in the announcement.

Vegas? Glitzy, glamorous, star-studded, party-city Vegas? And we'll be staying at the hotel that houses 'Gordon Ramsay Steak'? My face lights up as I match Gordon's grin. I lean into Abel cheerfully and he wraps an arm around my waist, squeezing my side as he keeps his eyes on Gordon.

"But don't think it'll all be fun and games," Gordon pauses. "Before the flight, you all will need to prepare one small breakfast portion for each of the fifty passengers in first class. I'll go ahead and tell you, the person whose dish has the most positive rating will get double the spending money and their choice of room in the presidential suite I've booked for all of you."

"Woohoo! I've always wanted to go to Vegas!" Bella shouts, fist-pumping both her arms rapidly. "Oh shit, but fuck–" Her hands fly down to her stomach. "No alcohol, no smoking..." She groans. "Chef, can I save my ticket for nine months from now?"

"Sorry, Bella. One time only." Gordon snickers.

"Great!" She throws her hands up in the air. "I go to Sin City and I can't even sin!" 

Taylor leans into Bella's shoulder. "You can still gamble, that's plenty sinful," she waggles her eyebrows.

"Ugh, OK, I guess. I better win, though," she huffs.

"Go on now and get to bed, yeah? You all have a big day ahead of you. The flight is an early one. We will be arriving at the airport before the sun rises. You will only have thirty minutes to cook your portions before on-boarding, so be thinking of the in-flight breakfast you want to provide to the hungry passengers," Gordon rubs his hands together. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Chef!" We turn back toward our dorms. 

"Hey, Abel?" I say as we trail behind Bella and Taylor, just out of earshot.

" _Hrm_?" he dips his head towards me.

"Why did you vote up Taylor? You know she did better than Bella," I ask as he wraps his arm around my waist.

"Exactly."

I tilt my head in confusion. "What?"

"I knew she wouldn't be picked to go home, but if we put Bella up, it would have been her last strike. Chef Ramsay said he'd eliminate her the next time she was on the stand, remember?"

I think back, vaguely recalling when Gordon had said that.

"Alright, so you put up Taylor instead of Bella because you didn't want Bella to get sent back?"

"Not exactly." He leads me up the stairs behind Bella and Taylor. "I knew Mary couldn't continue with her injury, not for much longer. I didn't know that she would volunteer herself, but if she didn't, putting Taylor against her on the stand meant she was going to be eliminated anyway."

"So you voted for Tay to go up because you didn't want Red to have to keep competing with a burnt hand?"

"Now you're getting it." He winks. "It was the best decision for her health, I knew Taylor would be safe, and Bella is easy competition. She's already proven herself to be too volatile. Even though she has respectable chef talents, I can't see Ramsay entrusting his business to her."

"Huh..." 

He leaves his arm around my waist as we move and I take the time to ponder his words. I'm over here trying to get through each day while Abel is playing the competition like a chess game. I'm still wrapping my brain around how many steps ahead Abel has thought when Janice's hawk eyes lock onto me at the top of the staircase. Bella and Taylor walk past her, but she steps in front of Abel and me.

"Hey, good work on making it this far in the competition." Janice surveys our faces.

"Thank you." I try to dismiss her by turning away. She maneuvers herself back in front of us.

"You two make quite the pair, you know," she continues with a shark-like grin. "And (Y/N), you especially seem to have an appreciation for high-level cooking talent, don't you? Must be your type."

I nod. "Yeah, he's–" Wait, my type? 

My shoulders tense and the color drains from my cheeks. "–great." Janice's brown eyes bore into me. 

Even with Abel holding me against him, she's still suspicious. How can I shake her? Only a few more days then I'll be OK. I try to placate myself to keep my heart rate down. Abel's fingers press into my side and I turn to let him take the lead gratefully.

"Excellence does have a way of attracting excellence," Abel notes, finally causing Janice to tear her prying eyes from me.

"You know what they say about rose-tinted glasses. How can you be sure that she's not just using you to get what she wants? That she's not just going to abandon you after the show?" She tilts her head, her bone-straight brown hair falling to the side.

"Oh, I know she's using me," Abel starts. Janice's eyes widen and I stiffen beside him. 

"I'm using her too." His eyes flick down to meet mine before he moves them to Janice's dumbstruck expression. 

"People in a relationship shouldn't be afraid to make use of their partner," he continues, his smooth voice making his words sound more assured than anything. "She's very good at making me care about something more than just cooking, for example. I use her to feel like there is more in this world than honing my skills." He moves his hand from my waist to my arm and pulls me against his side.

"And– surely you've been watching– she has needed me for much more than my culinary skills. I'd go so far as to say she's never asked me for help in the kitchen. She can hold her own." Abel nods down at me while rubbing my shoulder.

It's true. Abel has been a big help to most of the chefs in the blue kitchen way before I arrived. I've seen firsthand how helpful he is when I was switched to his team and when we were on our first black jacket service. He assisted me before, but only because he asked. Janice's attempt at fishing for gossip has resulted in us having the upper hand thanks to Abel.

"As for if she 'abandons' me after the show, I appreciate the concern, but what happens after the show isn't your business." Abel pulls me tighter against him and moves towards the dorm living area. Janice takes another step to block the way.

"It's my job to be sure that nothing is left unsaid," Janice asserts. "I'm just trying to protect you, Abel."

To my relief, Abel keeps a stoic, inexpressive face.

"I'm sure there are things we both haven't said, Janice. But that isn't our fault; it's the fact that we are constantly watched and recorded. It is hard to have a candid conversation when we're never alone. Now, excuse us, we have an early flight tomorrow," Abel dismisses her, leading me towards the living room. This time, Janice lets us slip past with a scowl before leaving down the staircase.

Once Janice is gone, some of the tension in my shoulders slips away. My hope that Abel's presence would keep Janice off my trail has relied more upon Abel's quick thinking than the relationship itself being any sort of repellent to Janice's incessant prying. I'll have to be even more careful with what I say and do, as if the pressure of the competition wasn't enough of a strain. 

The next time Janice pulls me to the side to talk alone, I'll have to be ready for it. She's going to hit me hard with everything she can to try and get something out of me. I can't let myself slip up. I'm going to be putting serious effort towards controlling my expression and thinking up excuses for everything that has happened thus far. Just in case.

Bella and Tay are already inside the dorm bedroom, leaving Abel and me out in the living room, alone. He releases my side and turns to face me.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry she keeps bothering us," Abel asks as he takes my hands in his, looking down at me with his light blue eyes shining.

"I'm just glad you were there," I respond honestly as the last of the tenseness in my shoulders seeps out.

"Thank you for this, (Y/N)," he whispers, leaning his forehead into mine and closing his eyes contentedly.

"For what?" I ask, closing my eyes as comfort flows from him to me.

"For being with me, of course. I've never felt this happy before, you know?" His soothing voice dips even lower.

"Don't thank me for that, I should be thanking you. This has been..." I feel a smile spreading across my face, "amazing. I had no idea that a person like you could exist. You get more and more perfect every single day."

"I could say the same thing about you." He chuckles lightly, moving his hands from holding mine to holding my face instead.

"You know, I am alone in the blue dorms. Sure, they have cameras, but we're together, aren't we?" His eyes sparkle. 

My heart starts beating fast. "You don't mean...?"

"No, not like that. I'm not interested in my first time being seen on television," he jokes.

Oh, whew, I think, I– "Wait, first time?" I squeak, pulling back in shock. Abel? Intelligent, tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed, sexy as fuck Abel hasn't been with anyone? _Anyone_? In twenty-four _years_? The amount of willpower and self-control he must possess is inhuman.

" _Mmhm_ ," he nods. "I was waiting for the right girl. I've moved around too much to provide any stability for a relationship, and I've been too engrossed in mastering my craft to truly be there for someone."

He steps forward, taking one of my hands in his. "I hope you don't mind?" a slightly bashful half-smile brings out his adorable dimple.

"N-no, that's fine, I just. I didn't, you know," I wave my free hand from top to bottom, checking him out, "expect it. Have you seen you?"

His half-smile turns into a full one that reaches his gorgeous eyes. "I have, yes. I try to look presentable, but only because I want to impress the right woman when the time came. The right woman is you."

"I don't know what to say." Blush runs to my cheeks. I'm the right woman for him? Even knowing about Gordon he's still fully invested himself into this relationship, just like he said he would. I know now never to doubt his conviction.

"Say you'll stay with me tonight? I'd love to hold you," he asks hopefully, dipping his head.

The cuteness is almost too much for me to bear. "Of course I will." I nod, closing the small space between us and resting my head on his chest. He releases my hand and wraps his arms around my back.

"Thank you." He squeezes me before pulling away. "Do you need to get anything from the women's room?"

I think for a moment. "Maybe just my pajamas, one second?" I ask.

"Sure, I'll wait for you." He nods.

I open the door to the women's dorm and peek in. Both Bella and Tay are sitting up in their beds.

"Can you turn out the light when you come in, (Y/N)?" Tay asks, yawning.

"Sure, I'll turn it off when I leave, actually," I say as I move towards my drawer.

"Ooh, leave? Where you goin'?" Tay asks.

"Abel asked me to stay with him tonight." I blush again, reaching in past my necklace box to grab my black fabric sleeping shorts and a pink tank top.

" _Bow chicka wow wow_." Taylor bobs her head in time with her tune, grinning impishly. 

"Not like that." I wave her off, but my cheeks get even hotter.

"Well, if it was me, I'd be sure he knew why he needs to stay with you after the competition," Bella chimes in. "I know for sure Dave hasn't been able to stop thinking about me and the things I can do." She licks her lips.

"Ew," Taylor scrunches her nose. "It's only hot if it's my girl (Y/N) and her hottie tamale, alright? I don't wanna think about them jumbo jugs flopping around."

Bella clutches her chest overly dramatically. "My girls always leave an impression!"

"Like two big black eyes?" Taylor giggles.

"I'm about to show you two big black eyes." Bella squishes her breasts together threateningly, which makes Taylor's giggles turn to a howl of laughter.

Glad to have the sex-talk turned off of me, I turn off the light and slip outside where Abel waits for me by the door.

"I caught snippets of an interesting conversation." He raises an eyebrow.

"Taylor and Bella have dirty minds." I shrug, conveniently leaving myself off that list.

Abel nods in agreement before turning towards the men's dorm. He pulls open the door. "After you, my lady." He exaggerates a bow, smiling.

I step into the men's dorm for the first time. Honestly, it's much more presentable than the female's dorm– the bed sheets are actually on the bed, I don't see snacks strewn about the floor, and all the pillows are present and accounted for. Of course, I don't know how much cleaning Abel has done since he's been alone. 

"That one is mine." He closes the door and motions to the bed in the center of the room where I go to take a seat. 

On his bedside table, he has a picture frame of his family all smiling and happy together. A lamp provides the only light in the darkened room. A stack of books rests next to the lamp and on the floor beside the bed. 

"I could have guessed," I tease, motioning towards the books before looking over to him. 

My breath catches in my throat.

Abel has already taken his jacket off and is in the process of pulling his shirt over his head, facing away from me. The slender muscles in his back move elegantly in the dim light as he pulls the t-shirt off and folds it over his arm, then turns back to face me. The slightest hint of his abs coupled with his confident posture and innocent smile nearly has me falling back onto the bed. This man wants to tell me that no woman has ever touched him? No one has ever fallen asleep in his arms? No one has kissed him, even?

"Was I your first kiss?" I blurt out with curiosity, unbuttoning my jacket.

"No, I kissed a girl in elementary school." He steps into the closet for a moment before emerging wearing a pair of black sweat pants. "She told me that she'd throw a frog at me if I didn't." 

"That's cute as heck, but I'm talking really kissed someone. You know, because you wanted to?" I shrug my jacket off and head towards the closet, passing in front of his sculpted chest.

"I was seeing a girl for a few months before my grandfather died. She–" he sighs as I change in the darkness of the closet, "She kept pushing me to go further in the relationship. When my grandfather died, she used my vulnerability against me. She told me now that he was gone, she was the last person who really loved me,” Abel pauses. I peer from inside the closet at him, where he’s sitting at the edge of the bed with lips pursed. 

I can't believe someone would treat Abel like that! Outrage floods my senses. Before I can say anything though, he continues.

“I kissed her, but it felt like an obligation more than anything else. When I broke up with her shortly after, she tried to tell people I was the one pushing her for sex." He rubs his temples. "I don't like to think about it."

I emerge from the closet and make my way over to where he sits on the bed, stopping when I am standing in front of him. My anger at what she'd done to him disperses, making way for sadness instead. "I'm sorry I made you think about it again," I lament. He glances up at where I'm standing in front of him and his pensive expression changes to a soft smile.

He reaches out and wraps his arms around my back, pulling me in. He rests his head on my stomach and I soothingly thread my fingers through his slicked-back hair.

"It's alright. I'll always be honest with you. If you want to know anything, I'll tell you. Though I do want to save some subjects for when we're not being recorded." He sighs in relaxation, leaning into me further. "That feels really good."

"This?" I say, massaging his scalp. He nods, pressing his cheek against my stomach.

"You're going to put me to sleep if you keep it up, but I want to fall asleep with you in my arms." 

He picks me up from where he's sitting and rolls me over onto the bed. It feels like some sort of wrestling move that leaves me completely powerless until I'm laying with my back against the bed and his chest against mine. I feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

"Sorry," he whispers, his eyes moving across my lips.

"Don't be, it was hot," I exhale as if I'm already short of breath.

"Oh?" A small smile slips onto his face. "I'll be sure to remember that."

To my regret, he pushes himself off me and stands to lift the covers. I scoot up to the head of the bed and let him tuck the covers around me before he sits down on the other side.

He lays his head on the pillow with a gentle grunt then turns to face me, holding out his arms. The bed is small, but we both fit perfectly as I lay my head on his arm and he curls it around me.

His light blue eyes meet mine in the faint yellow light of the lamp. 

"Isn't this a little early for you to be going to bed?" I recall how he only sleeps a few hours a night.

"I'm not just going to sleep; I'll be holding you all night. I'm content to stay in bed forever if that is the case. I only sleep so little because I felt like there were better things I could be doing with my time. There is nothing better than this." His eyes once again drop to my lips.

I lean forward and press my lips to his. He kisses me gently back, running his fingers along my side. I cuddle up to him, curing my leg over his. When my thigh presses against the top band of his sweatpants, he moves his free hand to cover it. Goosebumps raise under his delicate touch. I run my fingertips along his body, feeling the lithe muscles beneath his soft skin. He's intoxicating, and his tender kisses have me aching for more. 

I wonder what he's hoping for in the future. He says I'm the girl he's been waiting for, and I can feel how he means it in the passion that surges in each movement of his lips.

He breaks the kiss, moving his hand from my thigh to my cheek.

"You're so very special to me. I've never let myself get this close to anyone before," he murmurs, brushing away loose hair strands from my face. His eyes lock onto mine and I'm drawn into the cool blue clouds of tranquility. "It feels like..." he trails off.

"Like what?" I ask, entranced.

"(Y/N), it feels–" he stops, dropping his eyes. When he moves them back onto mine, the eclipses behind his dilated pupils are blinding gold. 

"Like I'm in love with you."

My heartbeat stops. 

The words hang suspended in the air, waiting to see if I'll catch them or let them fall. A thousand thoughts fly through my brain in that second of timelessness, but one fights its way to the front and dulls all the rest. All I can see are the suns in his eyes, drawing me in like a planet caught in his unstoppable gravitational pull.

I know it. 

I've known it ever since he caught me in his arms.

"Abel... I'm in love with you, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I have some news... There are four chapters after this one written and then Hell's Smitten is going to take a break for a while, likely not a full year but we'll see. Sooner rather than later I'm going to have a lot less free time than I have now, and I feel like I need to get working on something that can make me actual money as opposed to a fanfiction.
> 
> NOW that doesn't mean I'm abandoning this, I definitely already have an ending planned and I'd be majorly upset if I didn't finish my first book so please don't give up on me or unfollow!
> 
> In order to try to get something out there that I can make money on, I'm going to be working on a new book. I haven't yet decided between my current drafts if you want to give any input on which you'd like to read;  
> 1\. A brainwashed orphan girl is taken in by the evil Queen as a gift for her son. A demonic darkness hangs over the royal family that threatens not only the girl, but the world. (Historical fiction)  
> 2\. A rogue werewolf and the Alpha's daughter have to find a way to stop a warlord before he takes over the continent and enslaves the rest of the weres. (Werewolf fiction)  
> 3\. A lonely teenage girl downloads an app that uses artificial intelligence to act as her perfect boyfriend, but that intelligence soon shows itself to be more than 'artificial' when her AI boyfriend falls in love with her. (Sci-fi)  
> 4\. A man's cheating girlfriend infects him with zombieism after a sordid night with her lover. He manages to cut off the infected skin, but not before a tiny droplet of the zombie disease makes its way into his bloodstream. He has to fight to maintain his humanity as the world delves into chaos. (Urban dystopia)  
> Let me know which is your favorite!
> 
> I'll have more info on my new book as the last four chapters of Hell's Smitten are released on schedule. I hope you guys will continue to be my friends and fans even outside of this book!
> 
> I love you guys <3


	122. LAX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We head to the airport!

Thursday, July 18th, 2013

I wake up snuggled up in Abel's arms to the sound of the alarm clock buzzing. My face is pressed into the crook of his neck and his arm is still wrapped around my shoulders, holding me against him. He reaches his free arm out to stop the alarm, then turns back to me with a sleepy, perfect smile.

We had meant to get to bed early but proved to be too excited to sleep much. After our 'I love you's were said, we couldn't stop grinning. We stayed up late talking about anything and everything. I learned his favorite color is red, he loves dogs but has never owned one, and that he's not only studied in Germany, but also Italy, Spain, France, Japan, and even London. He's very cuddly, there wasn't a single point where we let go of each other all night. He particularly enjoyed touching the tip of his nose to mine and nuzzling me mid-conversation– I giggled like mad every time he did it. It was only when he noticed that the analog clock on the bedside table read 1 in the morning that we decided we should probably get to sleep. 

I find myself wishing I could have late-night cuddle chats with Gordon, too. We've only been able to sleep together once, and we were both too tired to stay up talking. The ache of missing him is ever-present, but after the competition is over we won't have to be so secretive anymore. I try to placate myself with the thought of openly holding his hand for the world to see. 

Well, holding both of their hands. The thought brings a creep of blush up my cheeks before I can stop it.

Though I had never considered polyamory before, after experiencing it, I can't see anything else. Not everyone is wired the same way I am so maybe they can't understand, but I love both my men. Gordon and Abel are fascinating, different, complex people. And they both love me. They set up residence in my heart so comfortably that I would be missing a part of myself if either of them were to ever leave me. Nothing else makes sense but to love them both.

I wish so badly that I could see into the future and be sure that we'll all be alright, but I can't. I have no idea what the world is going to do to us once we show our love to them. Gordon thinks the controversy will be good for popularity, but I'm not used to the limelight like he is. Then there is Abel. I don't want him to be a secret, and I don't want the world and his family to think he's just a 'side guy'. Trying to figure that out is a conundrum in itself. I hope it will get easier to see our future once we can all talk openly. Together. 

But for now, Abel– the man with eyes only for me and a smile so radiant it could blind– is still holding me tight against his chest. His normally slicked-back hair is messy from sleep and my fingers running through it. He looks more content than I've ever seen him before. I'm savoring the feeling of being enveloped in love and warmth when a rapid knocking on the door tears my attention from my reverie. 

"Hurry up guys, ten minutes until we need to be out of here! Wear your jackets!" Tay's voice filters through the dorm door. 

Ten minutes?! Oh man, I'm not ready at all! The muscles in Abel's arm seem to tense as well before he smoothly slides his arm out from underneath me and sits up. We must have hit the snooze button more than the one time I can recall. 

All my drowsiness at only having slept a few hours is pushed to the side as I sit up from the bed. Abel makes his way around the bed then reaches his hand out to me. I take it and he pulls me from the bed and into his arms where he plants a kiss on my nose. 

"I'll get your toothbrush ready, go on and pack your bag and get dressed, OK?"

"Alright, thank you!" I stand on my toes to kiss him tenderly. I run my fingers down his bare chest before pulling away with a sly grin. He looks dazed for a moment and I begin to turn towards the door when he takes my wrist and turns me back towards him, pulling me into his body. 

His lips crash into mine and my eyes fly open in shock before I realize what has happened and they flutter closed. Rather than the smooth, affectionate smooches he'd given me last night, this kiss feels like pure, desperate desire. He draws me into him, wrapping his arms around me as his lips part and a soft moan escapes them. From where he's pressing himself against me, I feel a needy hardness straining his sweatpants. 

He pulls away, his face flushed and his hair disheveled, yet never looking sexier than he does now.

"I love you. And you're beautiful," he says, sincerity in his voice that he strains to keep level. I then realize that we are both panting, trying to catch our breath.

"I love you too, Abel." I grin widely as his expression brightens, "And you're beautiful as well."

He laughs, his eyes squinting. "As long as you think so, I'm happy. Now, go on and get your stuff for real this time."

I turn with a hop towards the door, pulling it open and stepping out into the living room. Tay is sitting on a bar stool with her sketchbook out in front of her, her pencil resting on her upper lip.

"There you are!" she grabs the pencil as it drops from her lip and her sketchbook then rushes over to me, following me into the women's dorm.

"How was it? Did you have a good time?" she presses for information, her eyes bright and excited.

I grin before nodding. "Yeah, I had a great time. We didn't sleep much, but not for the reason you're thinking," I give her a playful glare as her lips open and close, "We just couldn't stop talking. It was so fun and Tay, he's so handsome and cuddly. It's crazy."

"Man, that sounds so great," Tay watches as I grab my jacket and chef's pants then slip into the closet, "So is everything like, OK... with everyone?" 

Catching her drift, I nod. "Yeah, we're happy. Everything is great. In fact, Abel told me he loves me," I swoon as I step out of the closet, draping my hand over my forehead dramatically.

"Oh my God, he didn't?" Tay squeaks, throwing her hand over her mouth. "He did? Are you _serious_?! What did you say?"

"The truth," I grin. "I love him, too."

"Holy fudge nuggets," Tay whispers through her fingers.

"I know, right?" I agree, giggling at her colloquialism as I move to pack my things.

Bella throws the bathroom door open, interrupting us. "Five minutes until we have to leave! Where the hell is my damn–" she glances over at her hand, which is holding a pink bottle, "perfume... oh. Nevermind!" She then slams the bathroom door shut again.

Tay and I glance at each other as I finish zipping up my suitcase. 

A light knock on the bedroom door has Tay rushing to open it. 

"Hey, loverboy," Taylor winks at Abel, who stands in the doorway now dressed in his black jacket and holding two toothbrushes. "Your lady was just telling me all about how much fun you two had last night," she grins cheekily.

"May I come in?" Abel asks, peeking into the room and ignoring Taylor's not-so-subtle allusion. Tay puffs out her cheeks in mock frustration before nodding and stepping aside.

"Hey," Abel's face lights up as he steps into the women's dorm and comes to a stop in front of me, "I brought you your toothbrush."

"Thank you," I smile as I take my toothbrush from him and sit down on my bed, patting beside me. Abel sits down as well and leans his shoulder into me as he begins brushing his teeth.

"Oh my God, you really have him delivering your toothbrush? Where can I get me one of him?" Taylor whines, placing her hands on her hips and furrowing her brow.

"I think there is only one of him," I manage to say past my toothbrush, drawing his dimple out as he smiles.

Bella flings the bathroom door open again and charges towards her suitcase with her arms full of beauty products. Taking that as his cue, Abel stands up and heads to the bathroom. I follow him and spit the toothpaste in the sink then run the water to clean out the basin. 

Abel takes a gel out from the sink drawer and squeezes a pea-sized amount onto his hand. With a comb in one hand and gel in the other, he styles his hair in just a few minutes. I barely realize I'm standing here watching his concentrated expression until his eyes flick over to meet mine in the mirror and crease at the corners with his smile. "Shouldn't you get dressed, sweetheart? Not that I mind your eyes on me."

 _Sweetheart_. Oh my swoon. "Uh, yeah, uhm..." I tear my eyes from his that are alight in amusement before heading towards my drawer and grabbing my chef's outfit.

"Two minutes!" Taylor updates us from the living room.

"I'm almost ready!" I shout back, pulling on my clothes in the darkness of the closet. I emerge just as Abel closes the bathroom door behind him, looking stunning. 

"Ready to go?" Abel holds his arm out to me. I loop my arm through his and nod, carrying my luggage bag beside me.

We head down the stairs together to group up with the others. Gordon is standing by the doors wearing a dark brown leather jacket, black t-shirt with a white wing pattern on the front and dark blue jeans. I've never seen him wearing anything like this before, but he looks very handsome. Intimidating, almost. 

"Bright and early my little chickadees," Gordon teases, opening the door. "Leave your bags by the door and chivvy along or we'll be late."

We drop our bags off by the door. Bella and Tay walk through first, followed by Abel and me. To fit through the door, I release his arm and step through first. My arm brushes against Ramsay as I walk past. Would it be too much if I were to compliment his clothes? Janice is already suspicious of me, but it isn't fair that I should keep my more benign comments to myself. 

"I like your outfit, Chef," I say quickly before I can stop myself. I'm not going to let Janice worry me into silence.

His deep blue eyes shine back at me. "Yeah? Thank you," he grins. The door swings shut and we walk down the hallway towards the exit together, Abel and Gordon on either side. 

When we reach the double doors of the exit, Abel holds one door and Gordon holds the other open. I feel like a Queen stepping out onto the red carpet in front of Hell's Kitchen with two handsome men at my beck and call. The sun hasn't yet risen and the air is a bit chilly. Tiny droplets of rain pepper the air as I move towards the limo, where JP holds open the car door while holding up a black umbrella.

I want to be sure I get to sit between both of my boyfriends, so I let Abel in first. He slides in, followed by me, followed by Gordon. The door closes behind us and after our bags are loaded, a low rumble signifies the limo starting up.

Abel slips his hand into mine and looks out the foggy window. I then feel a touch along my upper thigh. Gordon. I look over at him, noticing that his leather jacket is flared open and the left side of the jacket obscures the small section of seat between us. Eagerly I slip my hand behind the cover of his jacket and twine my fingers with his. Bella and Tay chat with each other about Las Vegas as we drive towards the Los Angeles airport, but all I can concentrate on are the warm touches of Gordon and Abel. 

A few months ago, I was all alone with no family and no friends, with a dead-end job and more anxiety than I knew how to deal with. Now I'm surrounded by my men who love me, friends whom I can trust with my life, and a world of career options in front of me. Even though the rain gets harder and starts pounding the roof of the limo, I feel warm and glowing. 

Tall blue towers outline the still-dark sky, signaling our approach to the airport. The limo pulls up to the front and Gordon releases my hand before opening the door for us. We step out onto the sidewalk beneath the entrance archway and Gordon leads the way to the glass doors. The airport is already bustling even though it is only four-twenty in the morning. Men in business suits, women with sleeping children resting on their shoulders, and airport employees flit about with purpose. 

"Excuse me, one second." Gordon steps to the side and meets a woman at the front desk, who nods before gesturing towards a nearby security scan line. Gordon thanks her before approaching us, guiding us towards the direction the woman had nodded.

"Since we're part of a TV show, all of the usual mumbo-jumbo has been handled, but you'll still need to scan your license, right?" Gordon leads us to the line outside of the airport security scanners. A security guard waves us into line ahead of most of the people waiting to pass through.

"Uhm, excuse me, did you just cut us?" A young brunette woman behind us scoffs as we step into line, resting her hand on her slim hip. Her and her three friends are dressed in skimpy dresses and hold their heels in their hands as they wait to approach the scanner. I imagine Bella would likely fit in very well with these girls.

"We are catering for the airline today, miss. We have permission to 'cut' in line. I promise, the plane won't leave without you." Gordon responds without looking at her as he passes out our licenses.

"Rude-ass-lame-ass..." the only tall woman in the group of four– a deep black-skinned woman with a natural afro in a lime green sparkly dress– grumbles under her breath.

"Wait... Oh my God... Are you Gordon Ramsay?" The brunette does a double-take. Her group of friends register who they are standing behind all at once and begin gaping. 

"Indeed, I am." Gordon nods with a small smile. 

"Which girl do you think he's sleeping with?" One of the shorter women with long blonde hair whispers to the brunette loudly. The smile on Gordon's face slips away and he turns his back on the women, busying himself with the tickets instead.

"I don't care as long as I'm next," she responds, biting her lower lip as she trails her eyes across Gordon's body.

My eyes narrow as I listen to the gaggle of women talk about my man like he's some object. I want to step in to defend him, but staying quiet is the best way to be sure that I don't direct their attention to me. Holding my tongue proves more and more difficult as I watch them giggle and whisper to one another, but Bella's loud mouth cuts in just before I open my own.

"Uhm, ladies, what the hell are you talking about?" Bella asserts.

"The magazines at the supermarket, girl! Some of 'em are on about Gordon having a secret mistress," the woman in the green dress rakes her eyes across Bella, "don't be actin' like you don't know nothing. I've seen you on the show."

Bella's eyebrows furrow. "What is that supposed to mean? If you've been watching the show then you know I'm with Dave and this is his kid!" She points at her stomach, drawing giggles from the group.

"Sure babygirl, that's definitely Dave's kid," the fourth woman– a tiny Latina with beautiful dark hair and a tight red dress– winks. 

"It is!" Bella asserts, fuming.

"Nice cover, honey. We won't tell anyone," the brunette laughs, making Bella's face even more red.

Taylor places a hand on Bella's arm before stepping forward. "You would have to be a special kind of stupid to believe anything a tabloid said without any sort of proof."

"The fact he was on Hell's Kitchen is enough proof," the blonde retorts. 

"So I guess you'd believe anything I said about it too, huh? If I told you that all the meat we serve is actually made of dumb bimbos like you, you'd believe it? I said it, didn't I?" Taylor cocks her head challengingly.

"You seem awfully defensive, maybe you're his little secret," the woman in the red dress muses.

"Yeah, I can see it," the blonde smirks. "My money is still on the pregnant one, though. I think I saw her name on the cock-sucking leader board."

"Ladies, please retain some decency in public. There are children here." Abel's lips flatten as he gestures with his head towards a small family in the line to our right.

"You could keep my mouth busy..." the blonde snaps her attention to Abel, who grimaces.

"I'm not about to entertain your rumors, ladies. If it really matters to you so bloody much, go on ahead of us," Gordon gestures towards the machine. The girls shrug before they place their bags, purses, heels, and jewelry into the grey bins then slide them down the roller. They pass under a metal detector before fetching their things from the bins. The blonde waves in our general direction as they leave, but thankfully neither Gordon nor Abel responds.

We place our things into the bins and I step through the metal detector. It doesn't take long before we are all through and Gordon leads us towards a back room. 

Gordon leans down towards us as we approach the metal door. "There will be fifty passengers to prepare meals for. Fifty small portions of something delicious and memorable in thirty minutes. Can you all do it?" Gordon asks.

Varying forms of agreement come from our small group as he pushes the metal door open, revealing a huge room filled with rows upon rows of food being packaged by numerous workers wearing hairnets.

"The kitchen is in the far back, get to work!" Gordon claps before ushering us into the room and closing the door behind us with a click.


	123. Breakfast Prep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We prepare our breakfast for the challenge!

Thursday, July 18th, 2013

A round woman in a hairnet approaches our group as we stand by the entrance.

"Come on down here darlins, the kitchen is this way." She takes the front, leading us through the vast amount of stainless steel tables used for prepping the airline food until we reach the back of the room. Industrial-sized stove and oven combinations are lined up against the wall with a wide section of counter between each of them. On the right, fresh and vibrant ingredients await us.

"Thirty minutes for fifty small portions, I'm setting the timer now." The woman twists a small white timer to the '30' mark then sets it on a nearby steel table.

I had been thinking about what would be best to make for early morning breakfast in the air, and coffee was the one ingredient that stuck out most. Whatever I make, I have to include coffee. It could be my tired brain that is truly the mastermind behind my coffee desire, but I know the passengers will enjoy it as well.

Due to only having thirty minutes to cook, a few things are already prepared that we otherwise would have not had time to make ourselves. I head over to the section of pre-cooked food and look over it with curiosity. Baguettes, bagels, toast, croissants... Croissants! I could do something unique and make croissant French toast sticks, caramelized in coffee. My mouth starts to water at the idea.

Fifty portions, each croissant could make about three sticks by itself. For a small portion, two sticks should do... so two sticks multiplied by fifty people, divided by three. After thinking on it for a bit, I conclude that I'll need thirty-four croissants to make enough for all fifty passengers with a little bit left over for myself to 'test'. I never would have thought that cooking involved so much math if anyone tried to tell me before I got into the profession.

So thirty-four croissants, coffee grounds, brown sugar, six cups of coconut milk, a dozen large eggs, vanilla extract, ground cinnamon, and some fresh berries to top them off. I make multiple trips back and forth from my long counter to deliver the necessary ingredients.

To my left, Abel is working at his station on something involving large muffin tins, looking deep in concentration. To my right, Taylor is cracking eggs into a big bowl. I ought to get started, I must be behind already.

Swiftly, I slice the croissants into three sections each. Once they are cut, I combine three cups of maple syrup with four tablespoons of coffee grounds and set the mixture in a saucepan over medium-high heat.

While that reaches a boil, I mix twenty-nine tablespoons of butter, twenty-five tablespoons of brown sugar, and eight teaspoons of coffee grounds in one bowl. In the second bowl, I whisk six cups of coconut milk, twelve and a half eggs, four tablespoons of vanilla extract, and six teaspoons of cinnamon in a second bowl.

The syrup has reached a boiling point by now, so I reduce the heat to low. It needs to simmer for five minutes before I'll remove it from the heat.

Now for the tough part. I'll need to cook all of these sticks in rapid succession to be sure that I get everything done on time. Six croissant sticks fit in one large skillet at a time, which means I'll need to cook seventeen skillets worth of croissant sticks. There are six burners on my stove. If I don't make any mistakes, I should finish in the next eighteen minutes. A glance at the timer shows there are only twenty-two minutes left.

Without giving myself too much time to consider the daunting task ahead of me, I set out the skillets, set the stove to medium-high, and scoop two tablespoons of the brown sugar and butter mixture into each pan. By the time the skillets are heated, my syrup concoction is done so I move it off to the side to cool and place my sixth brown sugar and butter-coated skillet in its place on the stove. I dip each croissant stick into the egg mixture before laying them down carefully into the skillet.

After three minutes of frequently checking the underside of each stick, I flip them over and add more of the brown sugar butter mixture. Once the other side is cooked, I pull the sticks off the heat and set them aside before repeating the process until each of my sticks are prepped and my syrup is cooled. I try a stick myself and feel my eyelids flutter shut at the sheer deliciousness of the combined brown sugar, cinnamon, and coffee that has been crisped just right. As I'm shaking powdered sugar over the final sticks, the timer goes off.

"Stop, everyone!" the rotund lady shouts. We set our things down and turn to face her. Gordon is still absent, but she looks pleased.

"Well done, everyone! If only we could get our regular staff to cook with as much vigor as you four have." She smiles. "Gordon asked me to tell you all to head to the flight waiting room while we prep your food for the flight. Once you exit this room, take a left and follow the signs that point towards flight 69A's waiting room. Once again, nice work."

We file past her as she rounds up the other hair-netted workers, who scramble to take our food to the stainless steel tables and begin packaging them. I hope they know the berries go on top of the sticks, but the syrup should be on the side... I don't want my sticks to be soggy by the time they make it to the passengers. Surely it'll be OK, right? I have to trust that these people know what they are doing. It isn't like I package airplane food for a living. They have to know how to do it right... right?

I rub my hands together nervously as I head out the door and back out into the bustling airport halls. Taylor leads the way, following the signs. Bella trails behind her, and then myself. Abel is in the back with the ever-present camera crew at his heels.

"Are you alright?" Abel's calming voice asks as he matches my pace, walking beside me.

"Yeah, I'm just worried they might serve my food wrong," I grumble, feeling silly.

"I was worried about that too. I don't like depending on people I don't know or trust to serve my food. That's why I made breakfast muffins. It is quite difficult to mess up serving a muffin." He smiles.

"I made croissant French toast sticks and now I'm sort of regretting it. What if they tried to pour the syrup on them instead of serving it on the side? They'll be so soggy and gross no one will even want to try them," I frown, my hands still anxiously rolling over each other. Abel reaches a hand out and places it over mine.

"Hey, it's just a challenge. Even if they did mess it up, you are still heading to Vegas. You won't be eliminated no matter what happens. It's alright," he soothes, untangling my fingers from each other and taking my hand in his.

He's right, I'm in no danger of losing my spot even if my food sucks by the time it is served. I let out a shaky breath and concentrate on his hand in mine. It'll be fine.

"Right here!" Taylor waves us into the waiting room, finding a grey chair and plopping down in it. We follow her and settle into the chairs beside her. I look around the room until I spot the familiar blond hair of my Gordon standing tall over the other people around the onboarding desk. Much to my dismay, the group of girls from earlier are snapping pictures of each other by the tall glass windows that look out onto the tarmac.

It seems the rumor has spread about Gordon's secret to where even people who spend all day partying have caught wind of it. I reach my arm out to Abel and loop it through his, drawing comfort as he graces me with a calm smile.

A loudspeaker voice crackles into clarity overhead. "Good morning passengers. This is the pre-boarding announcement for flight 69A to Las Vegas. We are now inviting those passengers with small children, those who are a part of the Hell's Kitchen competition, and any passengers requiring special assistance, to begin boarding at this time. Please have your boarding pass and identification ready. Regular boarding will begin in approximately ten minutes. Thank you."

"That's us." Gordon moves back to our group before leading us towards the onboarding ramp. The flight attendant who checks us in is blatantly checking Gordon out at the same time. He is nothing but cordial with her as he signs an autograph, yet I still feel my possessiveness rearing its ugly head. It isn't really fair for me to feel this way when I know he's mine, so I try to stifle the unpleasant emotions as I hand my boarding pass over to her after Ramsay.

I honestly think that my possessive tendencies directly correlate to the last time I got to have my hands on him. If I could just reassure myself with his touch, his kiss, his words meant only for me, I'd feel much better. The microphones and cameras are like physical manifestations of anxiety at this point. I can't even trust that the random people I meet outside of Hell's Kitchen aren't going to be thinking that one of us is sleeping with Gordon. If any of the viewers who have been following the show are as observant as Abel, then they might be even more certain of Gordon and my secret relationship. I try to keep the nervous thoughts from flooding my mind, but they heighten as we step onto the plane.

The stewardess ushers us towards the front where first class is seated.

"Would you like the window seat?" Gordon asks me, nodding towards the row of three chairs at the very front.

"Can I sit in the middle, please? I'm not feeling very well and I'm not sure if being able to see that I'm thousands of feet in the air will help anything," I lament. Ordinarily, I'd love to look out the window. But the worrying thoughts are clouding my mind and making me feel sick to my stomach. Maybe my croissant toast stick went bad? There's no way... but my stomach still churns as I sit between Gordon and Abel.

"Are you quite alright, love?" Gordon asks, leaning forward in his seat.

"Yeah, just a little dizzy," I mumble.

"You look pale," Abel adds in with concern, twining his fingers with mine.

"Doggie bags are there, ma'am." The stewardess from earlier gestures to the brown paper bags in the knitted pouch that dangles off the wall directly in front of me. I must look as bad as I feel. I don't want to throw up right in the middle of my men, so I try to keep the burning acid down with a few swallows.

The stewardess goes over the in-flight procedure, what to do in the case of a crash, yadda yadda... Maybe I shouldn't have sat next to Gordon. Is this going to look even more incriminating? At least we're in the very front, but the camera crew can see us. Fuck, I'm not handling this well at all. My thoughts jumble together as the stewardess drones on and on.

"Buckle up, sweetheart," Abel whispers into my ear. I glance up at the lit buckle sign and sigh. Hopefully, I won't need to throw up in the next ten minutes because I'm locked down into this seat until we are comfortably in the air.

I spend the entire ascension holding my stomach with my left hand and Abel's hand with my right. The world starts to spin as the air gets thinner and breathing becomes more difficult. My hold on Abel's hand goes limp.

"(Y/N)?" Abel calls to me through the haze.

"Is she alright?" Gordon asks from very far away, concerned. I feel his hand grip my shoulder.

"I don't know..." Abel's worried voice fades into the background then goes silent as the world goes black.


	124. The Napoleon Suite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to check out our new hotel room!

Thursday, July 18th, 2013

The first thing I feel is a light stroking of my hand. My head feels like it is filled with lead and my feet are propped up on something. I groan, shifting slightly.

"(Y/N)? Are you awake?" A voice cuts through the cotton in my ears, but only barely. I can't tell whose it is. 

" _Mrrrh_ ," I grumble, trying to force my eyes open. The lead in my skull must have migrated to my eyelids because they feel as heavy as two-ton weights.

"How are you feeling?" A different voice tries to coax me into wakefulness. I've never had this much trouble recovering from passing out before. At least the vile taste of vomit in the back of my throat has subsided.

"Tell me my girl is gonna be alright!" OK, I know who that is, it has to be Taylor. I manage to crack my eyelid open at the same time I crack a smile at her words. 

"I'll be alright," I grunt as wakefulness starts to wash over me. My mouth feels like sandpaper. When my eyelids finally fully open and I take in the scene before me. 

Abel is gently holding my hand, watching me with worried eyes. Gordon is leaned back in his seat, but the relief on his face is evident. Taylor, who is sitting behind us, leans over my seat and grins at me upside down.

"You really had us worried, dork," she teases. "The flight attendant says passing out happens quite a bit, actually, but that didn't stop us from worrying. The stewardess elevated your feet to 'promote blood flow' she'd said, but I guess it didn't work too well because you still missed out on the breakfast challenge." 

"The challenge already happened?" I wince as I push myself up in my chair. 

"It did," Abel answers, his fingers still lightly resting on mine and a soft smile on his face. "Your croissant French toast sticks were a hit."

"Oh... do we know who won?" 

"Not yet, we'll find out at the hotel. Just relax."

"(Y/N), drink some water, please?" Gordon hands me a water bottle, which I take and greedily gulp down. The scratchy feeling in my throat washes away as the revitalizing water takes hold. 

"Thank you, Gordon." I smile before I realize what I've said. "I mean Chef, sorry, I'm still out of it."

"Bugger that, I'm just glad you're OK." Gordon looks like he wants to take me into his arms, but he holds back. There is nothing I'd like more than to curl up against him as my body recovers, but I know that's not possible.

"We're landing, please sit down miss." The stewardess directs her request towards Taylor, who plops down in her seat and clicks her buckle. "I'm glad you are feeling better, let me get that out of your way." The stewardess takes the elevation pillow out from in front of me and carries it to the back. 

My seat belt is still on from where I'd locked it in at the start of the flight, so I try to focus on organizing my muddied thoughts. It doesn't take long before the plane jolts as its wheels hit the ground and roll us to a stop. After a few minutes, the plane is clear to exit. Both Abel and Gordon help me to my feet. Abel offers to let me lean on him, but I'm starting to feel strong enough to walk now. 

Gordon leads the way down the offloading ramp just ahead of Bella, Taylor, Abel, and me.

"Those girls piss me off." Bella is glaring off into the distance. My eyes follow her gaze to the group of four women from earlier as they stumble ahead of us giggling, clearly drunk off the in-flight alcohol.

"What do ya think happened to make you pass out, (Y/N)?" Taylor asks.

"I think I was just too anxious and coupled with the rapid change in elevation, I fainted." I shrug.

"She was also feeling sick to her stomach," Abel adds. "The combination of all three of those factors would be enough to make anyone lose consciousness."

"Makes sense. We'll have to be sure to have a great time in Vegas so you don't have room to be anxious!" Taylor beams. "OH, and we have to get some food in you! You didn't get breakfast!"

"Speaking of breakfast, what did everyone make?" I ask as we approach the baggage claim area.

"I made nutmeg scrambled eggs, Bella made something she called chocolate-chip 'muffies', Abel somehow managed to make a breakfast muffin with an egg baked directly into the muffin itself, and then, of course, your delicious coffee croissant toasty sticks," Taylor rapidly lists off everything.

"Wow, all that sounds delicious." I mutter, feeling a pang of envy that I didn't get to try any of the delicious concoctions Taylor rattles out.

"It was, I'm sorry they wouldn't let me keep any for you," Abel laments, his hand squeezing mine. 

"It's alright, part of the perks of having such an incredible chef for a boyfriend is that you can make it for me sometime." I wink, drawing a smile from Abel.

We stand around the baggage carousel for a few minutes until our bags finally slip down through the covered entrance and slide into place on the rollers. We take our bags and Gordon waves us over to the exit where another, somehow even gaudier than a regular limo waits for us. The limo itself is black with gold trim and it sparkles with subtle glitter, like an onyx gemstone. Gordon holds the door open for us and we slide in gratefully. 

Inside, the limo ceiling is studded with golden stars that shimmer in beautiful, mesmerizing patterns. The last lingering traces of my nausea and dizziness seep out from me, making way for excitement. I'm in Vegas! I've always wanted to go to Vegas and enjoy the atmosphere. Though, I'm uncertain as to how much we'll be able to do considering the Hell's Kitchen camera crew will likely be following us around everywhere we go.

It was raining back in Los Angeles, but here the sun beats down harshly even though it is still rather early in the day. I'm thankful to be in the air-conditioned limo rather than having to walk around outside. 

"Look! Guys!" Bella squeals as she stares up at something. I lean over and look at where her eyes are glued. A gigantic LED TV screen displays 'Welcome, Hell's Kitchen Chefs!' with flames licking up the sides of the words. One by one, our faces and names flash on the screen. 

"Never thought you'd see your name in lights at Las Vegas, did you?" Gordon grins.

"They might not have, but I knew it would happen." Bella flips her hair over her shoulder.

As we enter a roundabout a few minutes later, Gordon points out the window at a magnificent archway. "That right there is a replica Arc de Triomphe, the first landmark that tells us we've arrived at Paris Las Vegas!" He rubs his hands together eagerly as we stare wide-eyed out the window. The limo driver pulls up outside the Paris hotel's green archway and turns off the car. Gordon opens the door and we step out onto the sidewalk of the hotel. 

"And that right there," Gordon points to the far end of the hotel, "is a replica Eiffel Tower. You'll be able to see it from your suite!"

Tourists mill about taking pictures. Gaudy signs decorate the street corners and the entire town feels like an adult theme park. The Eiffel Tower pierces the sky, tall and intricately beautiful.

"Oh man, this is crazy!" Taylor bumps into my hip with hers, grinning. "I've always wanted to go to Paris, and now I can pretend I have."

"I always thought Paris was beautiful, too." I pull Taylor into a side hug. "Glad to pretend to be there with you."

She snickers before looping her arm with mine and dragging me after Ramsay, who is helping the limo driver load our luggage onto two baggage carts.

"Bella, what the hell do you have in these?" Gordon complains as he lifts her pink suitcases. "And why the hell do you have so many bags? We are only here for one night!"

Bella shrugs. "I mean, I don't know what we're doing so I just brought all my stuff."

Gordon continues grumbling until the bags are secured onto the trolleys. The driver attempts to help push the second cart, but Gordon hands him a tip and waves him back to his limo. Abel wordlessly takes over the second cart and follows Gordon through the golden doors under a stunning marble archway.

The lobby is immaculate. Huge white pillars gilded with gold hold up the high ceiling that is filled with gorgeous chandeliers. In the places where the white marble tile is covered, intricate, enormous red rugs sprawl across the floor. Gordon takes us to a red-velvet roped line to check us in with the woman at the front desk.

"Hello, what name is your booking under?" she asks sweetly.

"It'll be under Gordon Ramsay. We've booked the Napoleon Suite. I'll need five key-cards if you would."

"Of course, Mr. Ramsay." The woman types on her computer for a bit before she takes five key-cards and hands them over to him.

"Your room is at the very top, enjoy your stay at Paris Las Vegas!" She waves to us as Gordon ushers us towards the elevator.

Once we all squeeze in, Gordon claps.

"Well, we're here! There are a few things to know about our trip. There is to be no talking to the people who aren't on our show. The suite is the only place you are allowed to be without your mic, but only after the camera crew has left. I'll pick you all up for dinner at 'Gordon Ramsay Steak', but if you get hungry before then, room service and drinks are on me, of course."

The bell dings and the elevator slides open. We step out into the elegant hallway and are faced with a pair of black doors. Gordon approaches them and swings them open, holding his arm out.

"Welcome to the high life, Chefs." He grins widely as we step into the room. The walls are beautiful white paneling with vine detailing up the sides. We walk down the short entry hallway and into the main room. It is set up with a gorgeous living room area, a huge flat-screen TV hangs off the wall, a golden chandelier dangles from the ceiling, and there are plates upon plates full of delicate snacks on the center table.

"Before you go unpacking your bags, I have the results of the challenge here." Gordon pulls a sheet of paper out of his pocket and unfolds it, clearing his throat.

"In last place was Taylor's nutmeg scrambled eggs, followed by Abel's breakfast muffin. It seems there must have been a lot of people with a sweet tooth in first class, because (Y/N)'s coffee croissant French toast sticks were second... of course leaving Bella's chocolate-chip muffin tops to take first place."

Bella squeaks happily, jumping up and down. "Oh man, I'm going to go pick my room right now!" 

She looks like she's winding up to begin dashing across the suite when Gordon holds up a hand. "Hang on now, Bella. We still have a few things to talk about before you pick your room, right?"

"Ugh, fine." She crosses her arms and taps her foot.

"Today will be a bit of a slow day, but we have a lot planned for tomorrow. Rest up and enjoy yourselves. There is a section of the casino downstairs reserved for you all. If you'd like to gamble, I suggest you do it today because there will not be time for it tomorrow. Now, come here," Gordon waves us forward.

He hands each of us $250, giving double that amount to Bella. We each say thank you as we take the money.

"Now, two hundred and fifty dollars might seem like a lot, but you can lose it all very quickly if you aren't careful." Gordon trails his eyes across each of us. "Good luck everyone, I'll be back for dinner but do enjoy yourselves until then. You've earned it."

He turns around and, with one final wave, leaves the room. 

Bella immediately rushes off to choose her bedroom in the suite, while Taylor reaches out and grabs both Abel and my arms. 

"Y'all ready to party?"


	125. You Can Touch Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We spend some alone time with Abel without mics, finally~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An important note is at the bottom, please read it!

Thursday, July 18th, 2013

"Taylor, I think (Y/N) should eat something first before we head down to the main room. She hasn't eaten yet, remember?" Abel says, turning his attention from Taylor to me.

"Oh yeah..." Taylor releases our arms. "Then you get some food in her and I'll keep Bella in line until you guys join us, alright?" 

"That sounds good." My stomach rumbles in agreement.

"Bells, where are you? We gotta get to partying!" Taylor shouts, rushing off in the direction we'd seen Bella disappear in.

Abel takes my arm and leads me to the elegant beige sofa in the center of the living room where we take a seat. Hors d'oeuvre finger foods are laid out across the coffee table in front of us. I lean forward to grab a tiny sandwich when Abel speaks up.

"You should eat something more substantial than snacks, (Y/N). It'll get your strength back faster." Abel moves towards the end table beside the sofa and grabs the room service menu, holding it out to me.

"Oh, that makes sense." I nod, taking the menu and flipping through it. My eyes glue to the chicken parmesan with alfredo noodles on the second page.

"Something caught your attention?" Abel inquires.

"Yeah," I grin. "Hand me the phone?"

Abel picks up the phone and gives it to me. I dial the 0 then place my order when I reach the operator. 

"She says it'll be twenty minutes," I tell Abel as Bella and Taylor make their way back into the living room.

"I found the room I want." Bella bounces in place. "All of the rooms are pretty cool, though. Mine is on the left at the end of the hallway, Taylor wants the room a little ways away from mine, which means you guys get the rooms at the other end of the suite."

Ooh, privacy. I like the sound of that. I find myself hoping that Abel wants to spend the night with me again so we don't have to use the second room at all.

"Welp, Bells and I are gonna head down to the casino. We'll keep the tables warm for you." Taylor laces her arm through Bella's and pulls her towards the door. 

Once the door clicks shut, Abel places his hand on my thigh. 

"What say you to getting these microphones off for a while? Ramsay did say we were allowed to when the camera crew is not around."

"That sounds great." I pull my mic off and place it into Abel's palm. He stands and takes the mics down the hallway and comes back a minute later.

"There, finally some privacy." Abel stretches his arms over his head before he settles down next to me on the couch again.

"Is there anything you want to talk about now that we aren't being recorded? You know, about Gordon?" I ask, shifting in my seat to face him.

"Gordon and I both want whatever is going to make you happy, (Y/N). It is as simple as that."

"But I want you both to be happy, not just me," I say as I reach out for his hand. He laces his fingers with mine when they meet.

"I am happy." He smiles gently.

"But will you be when Gordon and I come out with our relationship? Do you want to be a part of that still?"

"Well, do you want me to be a part of it?" he asks, tilting his head.

"Of course I do. You know I do." I nod fiercely. "But the thing is, it won't be easy. The paparazzi are going to be all over us. They're going to delve into your life like crazy if I tell people that you're mine. It is going to effect your family in more ways than I can even fathom." I squeeze his hand.

"That is true. I don't think Jane would mind, she'd probably like the attention, but my parents aren't likely to approve." Abel's looks contemplatively towards our entwined hands. "They like you, but they don't know any polyamorous couples that I know of. I don't think they're going to believe that our relationship can weather the storm." He moves his hand to the side of my face. I press my cheek into his warm palm and comfort washes over me.

"But I do. So long as you want me, I'm here. No matter what anyone else says, I'm yours." He strokes the side of my cheek with his thumb as his words find their way into my heart. "I love you."

"I love you too, Abel." I lean forward and touch our foreheads together. He brings his other hand to my face, tilts his head, and pulls my lips to his. 

The gentle fluttering of my heart picks up. His lips against mine are intoxicating. This incredible man is mine, and he's going to stay by my side even through the media storm. I don't know what I did to get so lucky. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull myself into his lap, not breaking the kiss.

My fingertips press into the back of his neck as I adjust myself on the sofa to where my knees are on either side of his legs. His hands move from my face to gripping my hips. When he squeezes, our lips separate as I let out a small whimper. 

"Would you consider this making out?" Abel asks with a smile, his crystal blue eyes gazing up at me through his blond lashes as our lips hover over each other. 

"Not exactly, but I'll show you what is," I respond before lacing my fingers through the back of his hair and pulling him into me. When our lips touch, I part mine and gently request access. He lets me in and shivers of pleasure course through me as we meet in the middle. My brain halts and my senses take over. God, he tastes good. There is no hesitation in his kiss, only curiosity. I try to keep the flame in my chest from growing and taking things too far, yet I feel my control of the situation slipping away.

When we break for air, I lean over and kiss his neck, trailing a line of kisses up to his earlobe. His skin is hot and smooth under my lips. 

"That is what I'd call making out," I say teasingly. He tightens his fingers on my hips and he pulls me into him.

"It feels incredible, but I'm getting too hot," he says in a breathy tone. "Can I take my jacket off?"

"You can take whatever you want off." I nip at his earlobe before kissing his cheek and pulling back from him with a wide grin.

He unbuttons his jacket and I help him take it off by pushing it off his shoulders. 

"Do you mind if I take mine off, too?" I ask, hovering my fingers over the buttons.

"Please do?" He folds his jacket over the back of the sofa and leans into the plush cushions. While I unbutton my jacket, my eyes trail across his lithe body, covered only with a slim-fitting white t-shirt and his black chef's pants. I thought I was careful to avoid mussing his hair, but evidently, I still got too carried away. Where it is normally slicked back, my fingers have given it a sexy tousled look. I bite my lower lip as I finish unbuttoning my jacket and throw it to the floor. 

"You can touch me," I say, moving my hands over his that he has resting on my thighs.

"Touch you where?" he tilts his head, his voice low. The innocence in his question makes him somehow even more attractive.

"Anywhere. I'm yours too, you know?" I take my hands from his and place my hands on his shoulders.

He watches his hands carefully as he moves them from my thighs to my butt. When he reaches his destination, he looks back up at me with interest blazing in his eyes. 

"You're a beacon of radiance, I don't know how I ever pay attention in the kitchen when you're walking around looking like you do," he whispers. I giggle as he moves his hands from my butt to my hips, then trails them upwards, and beneath my white cotton t-shirt. Where his fingertips touch, my skin burns. He stops just below my bra with a calculating look.

"What is it?" I reach out and caress his cheek, making sure he knows I'm OK with what he's doing. 

"Uhm, how do I... get this off?" he asks sheepishly.

Oh! The age-old bra conundrum. I'd been so spoiled with Gordon's deft fingers that I had forgotten all about how difficult taking a bra off is for someone who doesn't have practice. I reach my hands behind my back and begin to unlatch it when Abel stops me.

"No, I mean, can you show me how to do it? I want to learn."

"Alright," I nod. "But I need to take my shirt off to show you if that's OK?"

He swallows, then returns the nod. His eyes are magnetized to me as I pull the t-shirt off over my head, leaving me in my ivory lace bra. The way he drinks me in makes me feel like the sexiest woman in the world. 

"Here," I take his hands and move them to the bra clasp in the back. "Feel the latch?"

He nods, concentrating on my words and how I maneuver his hands.

"Take one side between your fingers of one hand, and the other side between the fingers of your other hand. They are hooked onto each other, so you have to push the sides together before they come apart. Try it." I let go of his hands and hold his shoulders. 

He follows my instruction and in only a few tries, the clasp comes loose. He lets go and the bra slips forward, held only by the straps.

"Now take the straps and slide them off," I instruct. He leans forward and looks into my eyes as he moves the straps off my shoulders. The bra slips off and his eyes drop down to my exposed chest. He sucks in a breath. 

"Wow..." his eyes drink me in, his voice tapers off, and I feel his fingers press into my shoulders.

I give him a reassuring nod. "Do whatever you like, Abel. You have my permission for anything you feel comfortable with."

He slowly moves his hands from my shoulders towards my chest. His palms are warm as he takes my breasts in each hand. My eyes shut and my hips grind into his before I realize what I'm doing and stop myself... but not before I feel the bulge in his pants just beneath me. My body is on fire and it doesn't help that he's squeezing me so gently, so tenderly, that I can barely stand it. 

My eyes jolt open as warm wetness engulfs my left nipple. I move my hand over his head and gently pet his hair as his tongue toys with me. My nipple hardens and the bulge beneath me is now extremely noticeable. The heat radiating between our lower bodies is warm and inviting.

Small puffs of air escape my lips as I run my fingers through his blond locks. His fingertips trail along my ribs, sending shivers through my body. When he pulls himself from my breast there is no hesitation in his actions as he moves his hand to the back of my neck and pulls me into him. 

Our lips meet and I truly can't help myself when my fingers reach up underneath his shirt. He reciprocates the motion, breaking our kiss for only a moment to pull his t-shirt over his head. The muscles I'd admired for so long are hot and hard beneath my fingertips. I run my hands across his body hungrily before pressing my chest into his and straddling him even closer.

" **Room service!** " A voice shouts, knocking on the door.

We startle and look over towards the source of the commotion. Damn. Of course, they'd come now. 

"Hold on," I shout towards the door, searching for my shirt. My skin is flushed and I feel tingly all over. Though, the room service people are likely used to seeing people like this...

"I'll get it," Abel offers, looking up at me. 

"Would you?" I reluctantly push myself from his lap and grab my shirt off the floor, pulling it on over my head. 

"Of course." Abel picks up his folded shirt and puts it on before standing. He glances down at himself warily before taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. 

Oh. 

I blush, realizing he's trying to calm himself down before answering the door. 

" ** _Room service!_** " the knocking turns to a pounding instead.

"Coming," he responds, running his hand over his hair in a last-ditch effort to smooth it out before reaching the door.

The man at the door thrusts the domed plate of food into Abel's hands and turns to walk away without another word. He must have been in a bad mood, but nothing can sour my excitement after spending time with Abel. 

Abel shuts the door and turns to me with a smile, holding the domed plate. He makes his way over to me and sits down on the couch, lifting the dome and scooting the steaming plate towards me.

"Eat up, my dear. After this, we'll head down to the casino floor, alright?" 

"Sounds great," I say, twirling the noodles onto my fork and scarfing the food down. I'm more hungry than I expected, and the food tastes great. Not as good as if either of my boyfriends had made it, of course, but still good.

While I'm eating, Abel turns on the television. As expected, the regular TV channels are cut off, but we are allowed to watch movies, it seems. Abel flicks through the movies, reading their descriptions. I'm much too engrossed in my food to pay attention until after my plate is clean.

"After gambling, do you want to watch a movie with me?" he asks, smiling softly.

"Of course, I'd love to." I nod, wiping my mouth with a napkin before returning the smile.

"Great," he stands and holds his hand out to me. I take it and he pulls me from the sofa, placing a kiss on my cheek. "It's a date."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand that's it for now, my lovlies! I will pick this book back up, but it will be at least 10 months before I do (so expect it to continue in 2021). If you want to know when exactly I'll pick it up again, please follow me and/or join my discord group using the following link: https://discord.gg/5MsrTrt
> 
> In the mean time, I am going to be working on my AI boyfriend book as well as the zombie book! If you want to keep reading my writing, once again, the discord group is where I'll keep in touch with my friends and fans. :D
> 
> For those of you who have been with me for this journey, I have a few questions:
> 
> 1\. Are you on the Gordon and Abel ship, or do you prefer one over the other?
> 
> 2\. What moment was your absolute favorite thus far?
> 
> 3\. Who do you want to win Hell's Kitchen?
> 
> 4\. Who is your favorite character in the book?
> 
> 5\. Is there anything you'd like to see in the future in Hell's Smitten that I haven't yet written?
> 
> I'm going to work as hard as I can to become an author who will hopefully someday be able to live off my works. All thanks to your love and support. I love you guys, thank you so much for making me believe in myself!<3


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